


Slow Dance

by Muriel_Perun



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Holosuite Scenario, M/M, Psychobabble, Rape Aftermath, mush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 09:01:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4473287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muriel_Perun/pseuds/Muriel_Perun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After suffering at the hands of the Jem'Hadar, Julian can't adjust to his old life with Garak on Deep Space 9. His last chance to regain his sanity: a holo scenario created by Ezri and Vic, combined with an experimental drug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Dance

**Author's Note:**

> This story has never been published anywhere. It was meant for a zine that never happened.

Sisko shook his head. “I don’t like it,” he said simply. “It sounds like a crazy idea.” His senior staff, minus Bashir, was gathered in the Ward Room.

Ezri shrugged, irritated. “Frankly, Benjamin, the crazy ideas are the only ones we’ve got left. Julian’s going to be lost to us if we don’t find a solution soon.”

“Why don’t we send him back to the mental health facility on Star Base 208? Maybe they can....”

“He spent a month there, getting more and more depressed and disconnected. They suggested that he needed to be back in familiar surroundings. The more detached he gets from his old life, the more alienated he’ll be, and the harder it will be to get back his memory. Look, Ben, this new method may be just what he needs.”

Sisko sighed. “Explain it to me again. Explain it to everybody. Worf and O’Brien haven’t heard this before.”

Ezri echoed his sigh. “All right. Before Worf and Garak arrived at the Jem’Hadar prison camp, something happened to Julian. We don’t know exactly what that was, but, judging from the physical damage he suffered, we assume that it involved continual rape. While trying to escape he managed to function normally by repressing the memory of everything that had happened to him before. But after he had been back on the station for a few weeks, his defenses started to crumble. He’s been unable to connect with any of his old friends, even Garak, with whom he started an affair about six months ago.”

“Yes,” Sisko said with a touch of distaste. “I had no idea until you told me earlier. Why am I always the last one to know about these things?”

“I didn’t know either,” mumbled O’Brien.

Ezri smiled. “Kasidy says it’s because you never pay attention to body language, but if you ask me...”

“Never mind,” Sisko said moodily. “I don’t really want to know.” He picked up the baseball from the table and started to work its seams. “Go on, Counselor.”

“All right. At this point, Julian can’t face the memories of what happened to him. At the same time he’s blaming himself.”

“How can he blame himself for being raped?” Odo said impatiently. “He was a prisoner of the Jem’Hadar. It’s amazing he survived.”

Ezri sighed again. “I didn’t say it was rational, but it’s a common reaction to rape. The victim goes over and over the incident imagining ways that he could have prevented it. He feels so powerless, so humiliated, that he wants to fantasize that he was actually in control. Paradoxically, imagining he was in control makes him feel that he let it happen, and therefore he’s to blame. Does that make sense?” she ended hopefully.

“Well, you’re right that it isn’t logical,” said Odo.

“I understand,” Worf said unexpectedly. “It is like losing a battle that one expected to win.”

“Yes,” Ezri said encouragingly, “I see your point.” Confused looks around the table revealed that no one else did. “Anyway,” she continued, “Julian is in constant pain, and he can’t even work out why. His mind wants to escape from reality, to put it simply, and that’s why he suffered that psychotic break last week.”

“Garak was the only one there, right?” asked Kira.

“Yes,” confirmed Ezri. “Garak called me to his quarters in the middle of the night. Julian had been talking wildly, and finally he lashed out at Garak, thinking that he was a Jem’Hadar soldier. It was probably the grey skin, you know, that made him focus on Garak. Anyway, if there had been a weapon at hand, I believe he would have killed Garak. Since then, he’s been catatonic most of the time, but his brain wave activity is exceptionally high. No one can reach him.”

“Could Garak have been putting some sort of pressure on him?” O’Brien asked tentatively. “I mean, could he have felt he was being raped again?” A scarlet flush spread over his face and up the back of his neck.

“No,” Ezri said firmly. “Absolutely not. Garak wants the best for him. He even let Julian pummel him rather badly the other night, hoping it might help him work through whatever he was frightened of.”

“So, what can we do for him?” Kira asked. “During the Occupation I saw people who withdrew into themselves the way Julian has. Some of them never came out again.”

“Can we erase some of the negative memories?” O’Brien asked.

Ezri shook her head. “That would be a last resort. Julian’s genetic engineering makes the risk of permanent brain damage much greater than usual. In fact, the genetic engineering makes him more susceptible to disconnections like this. We can’t intervene until we’ve tried something else, something that gives him a chance to work things out for himself.

“So we set up a situation in the holosuite—a fantasy, but something that has certain elements in common with what happened to him.”

Sisko put the baseball down on the table. “I have to ask the obvious question here. Why bother to set up a fantasy? Why not just deal with his problems directly?”

“As I said, his real problems are too hard to face directly. In the holo scenario, his problems will be manageable. All his friends will play customers or workers at Vic’s. We’ll try to help him without pushing him too far.”

“How?” O’Brien asked, confused. “What will we say to him?”

“That’s the hard part,” Ezri replied. “I think the main thing is to show him we’re there for him. Garak is the one who will be doing the real therapeutic work.”

Sisko shook his head again, this time angrily. “It just seems so tenuous,” he said. “We’re putting an awful lot of trust in Garak. He’s not a counselor, and I’m not even sure I want him involved in it.”

“If we’re going to do this you’ll have to accept the fact that you can’t control everything that happens. Garak is the key. He’ll approach Julian, try to make friends with him, and then we’ll see what develops. I or someone else will be at an observation post in the holosuite 26 hours per day. We’ll watch Julian wherever he is, unless...well, unless it appears that the situation is about to become...intimate.”

“And then what?” asked Sisko, frowning.

“Behind the bathroom cabinet in every room I’ve concealed a preset hypospray of sedative and a ‘panic button’ that will open a communications link with the observation post. Anyone who’s with him can get help immediately.”

“Excuse me, Ezri,” O’Brien said, “but why do we think Julian will accept this scenario as reality? Even in the state he’s in, surely he’ll know that he’s in a holosuite.”

“Ah, but he won’t, at least not at first. We’ll use drugs to suppress all of his memories temporarily, and then we’ll plant new surface memories—a whole lifetime of memories. Julian will have a sub dermal implant to dispense the drugs automatically. If I feel that the dosage is wrong, I can change it by remote. After about three days, we taper off on the doses. At the end of six days, we stop and the drugs will begin to wear off. If it works, Julian will start to remember his real life a bit at a time. Some of it will come back to him in dreams. Eventually, he’ll remember who he really is, and, we hope, he’ll remember his trauma so gradually that he’ll be able to deal with it. He’ll be surrounded by his friends, and he’ll feel supported by us all. At least that’s the theory.” Ezri paused to take a deep breath. “We have to remember not to push Julian too hard—but, on the other hand, we have a deadline. The memory-suppressant drugs can only be given for six consecutive days. After that there’s danger of permanent memory loss, or even brain damage. If we don’t succeed in that time, we can’t try this method again. There’s no going back.”

The room was silent as everyone absorbed this news.

“All right,” Sisko said finally, “how do we do this? What kind of scenario do we come up with? And what part do I play, if I dare to ask?”

“I’ve talked to Vic. He’s taking care of everything. The scene will be set in his nightclub-casino-hotel in Atlantic City in the 1950s. We can start tonight if you’ll let us.”

“I thought Vic’s was in Vegas?” O’Brien asked, confused.

Ezri nodded. “It usually is, but there’s an Atlantic City option.” She shrugged. “It was Vic’s idea. He’s never been to the beach.”

“And Julian will think he’s...who?” Sisko asked. “And who’s Garak?”

“Julian is a dancer named Jules who works for Vic, and Garak will be a guest at the hotel.” Ezri’s too innocent eyes made Sisko suspect she might be holding something back.

“A dancer?” he asked. “What does that have to do with being raped by the Jem’Hadar?”

Ezri swallowed hard. “Jules is what used to be called a ‘gigolo.’ He gets paid for dancing with customers, and sometimes he... Well, he’ll have memories of having been forced by necessity to sell his body. It won’t actually happen in the scenario, of course. We hope that those memories, although painful, will be less difficult to face than what really happened with the Jem’Hadar. As Jules, Julian will be dealing with similar feelings of worthlessness and despair, for example, but the trauma and the terror he went through won’t be immediately present in his mind to prevent him from working those feelings through.”

“All right, we’ll try it,” Sisko said with resignation. “As you say, Dr. Bashir is running out of time. But I want you to keep a close eye on Garak. If he took advantage of Dr. Bashir under these circumstances, it would....”

“It would be fatal,” Ezri finished. “But that won’t happen. I’ll be at Vic’s all the time the nightclub is open. When the nightclub is closed, we’ll have our observation post. But, remember, Benjamin, Julian started a relationship with Garak months before his imprisonment. Redeveloping his intimacy with Garak is part of the cure. When they’re alone, we have to allow them their privacy. We’ll just have to trust Garak. Believe me, he knows what to do.”

“I’m afraid of that,” said Sisko drily.

“Benjamin!” Ezri admonished him.

“Where do the rest of us come in?” Odo asked.

“Vic and I will brief you on your roles and your new names. You’ll drop in from time to time and interact with Julian in his new character. No one is to mention anything from his former life. Just talk to him, and try to have fun. The point is to let him know we care.”

The officers filed out, heading for their various stations. When Ezri reached the door, Sisko called her back.

“I don’t like putting this much faith in Garak,” he said quietly.

“Why not?”

“He’s fooled me completely once or twice, and I imagine he could do it again. He’s just too good at playing games.”

“Is that all?” asked Ezri.

“No.” He paused. “I’ve never known Julian to have an affair with a male. I just can’t help wondering about this. Maybe Garak caused his problems. Julian was raped by men, so it just seemed like we’re asking for trouble to put him in the hands of a man who wants him.”

“To me it seems like the best thing we can do,” Ezri said. “Garak doesn’t just _want_ him, he cares for him. That’s what Julian needs.”

Sisko nodded, but still looked unconvinced. “And, by the way, Old Man, what part do I play? You seemed a bit evasive.”

She answered unwillingly. “Uh—you’re the bouncer.”

“The _what_?”

“Don’t worry,” Ezri said with a nervous smile. “It’s a role that will let you be there every night. Vic will explain everything.”

***

Jules sat down to rest at a table near the back of the room. He never sat up front, of course, because they had to reserve the best tables for the paying customers. Employees weren’t here to enjoy themselves, and even though he had to admit that Vic was probably the kindest employer he’d ever had, the bottom line was still the main thing. Jules worked hard for his meager living. He danced with the ladies, flirted, and, of course, always dressed impeccably in black tie. His two tuxes were the most expensive things he owned—the only things he owned. He felt sometimes that he didn’t even own his body. When customers, male or female, asked him for a special favor, he always did it. Whether it was a little cuddle, a blowjob, or a whole night of love, these favors often paid handsomely. Although he had to give a percentage of the tips he made on the floor to the house, whatever he earned after hours was his to keep. The extra money made his life a little easier. And who knew how long he’d have his looks?

Edi whirled up to his table, wearing a bouncy short skirt and carrying a tray. Her low- cut, sleeveless top showed the spots all the way down to her breasts. Here you go, Jules,” she said cheerily.

“Thanks, Edi,” Jules said, accepting the martini. “You’re a lifesaver.” Edi was his ally. She knew what it was like to stand on your feet all night working so that other people could have a good time.

“Oh, don’t thank me, not this time. This drink is compliments of the grey gentleman sitting at the front row table, see?”

Grey gentleman? Grey faces... Grey faces moved through his mind—uniformly grey, uniformly vicious. Jules felt a rush of panic. _Where’s the grey man? Coming after me?_ Looking towards the stage he saw a gentleman wearing a well-tailored tux sitting by himself. At this distance, in the bad light, he couldn’t see the man’s face but only that he was raising his glass in salute. Jules raised his glass in return.

“Oh, damn,” he said quietly to Edi. “I thought I was done for tonight.”

“Don’t put him off, Jules,” Edi advised confidentially. “He’s a big spender. Looks like a keeper. Oh, and he sent you this note.” She picked it off her tray and handed it to him.

“If you would like to earn $50, please have the kindness to come to room 334 tonight after the bar closes. I would like to talk to you.”

Ezri peered curiously over his shoulder. “Are you going?”

Jules shrugged and slipped the note carefully into his pocket. “Do I have a choice? Fifty dollars.” He sighed. “It must be something kinky. I’m not in the mood.”

“He says he just wants to talk to you.” Jules gave her a withering look. “Oh,” she said, blushing, “is that what they all say?” He smiled ruefully. “Then don’t go.”

Jules laughed bitterly. “I have to go. I’m a gigolo, right? It’s my job.” He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to see the grey gentleman raising his glass and probably leering suggestively, although Jules couldn’t see that well in the dimness. “They’re calling for drinks over there, sweetheart,” he said gently. Ezri took off running.

Well, fifty bucks was nothing to sneeze at. At least there was the money to look forward to. He finished his martini in one gulp and went back out on the floor.

***

He’d knocked at other doors like this more times than he could count. He hated this moment, bringing his body to a stranger like an offering, waiting on the doorstep to be appraised, used and paid. The door opened and the grey gentleman appeared with a martini glass in one hand.

“Come in,” he said cordially. “What’s your name?” Soft music was playing in the background.

“Jules.”

“Jules.” The man seemed to savor the sound of it. “My name is Mr. Gant.”

 _Gant,_ Jules thought. _That’s “glove” in French. He fits me like a glove. Very funny, Jules. All too soon he’ll be trying you on._ The idea made him queasy. He hoped he could go through with it. He wanted that money so badly.

Mr. Gant had closed the door behind him, offered him a chair and a drink, all without touching him. Sometimes that meant it would be worse later. Jules gulped a little at his drink and then forced himself to slow down. He’d had plenty already tonight. Better to hang on to a little control.

“This is for you,” Mr. Gant was saying, handing him a small wad of crisp, new bills.

Jules took it slowly. Things were progressing a bit fast. “What do you want me to do?” he asked with a thrill of dread.

“I want you to accept that fifty dollars as a gift. I would enjoy your company as long as you wish to stay. Whenever you want to leave, you are free to go.”

This had never happened to him before. He turned away from vague memories of bodies pounding against him, of having to argue or beg for his money. “What if I decide to leave now?” he asked a little defiantly.

“Then, I will regret not getting to know you better, but you may leave,” Mr. Gant said promptly. “However, if you stay, I do have a small request.”

 _Here it comes. No wonder I’m cynical_.

“Dance with me.”

“Dance?” Jules was taken by surprise. “I...I usually only dance with ladies,” he stammered. “I only know how to lead.”

Mr. Gant rose and held out his arms. “Just relax,” he said. “Listen to the music. It will come to you.”

Jules walked into his arms. He felt a gentle arm slide around his waist as his right hand met Mr. Gant’s. Jules closed his eyes. Their faces touched, and when Jules took a breath of the man’s scent he began to relax into the strong arm that held him. This felt so comfortable, so right. Why should it feel so good? Had he met this man before?

A new song came on. Fred Astaire was singing, he thought. One of Vic’s respected rivals.

_And I seem to find the happiness I seek_

_When we’re out together_

_Dancing cheek to cheek._

“Ouch,” said Jules suddenly, startled by a pain in his toe.

“Pardon me.”

Suddenly Jules could picture them together—a couple of tuxedoed men of about the same height swaying awkwardly to this romantic song. The laughter bubbled up out of a place he thought he couldn’t find anymore. They looked into each other’s eyes, smiling, and then he touched the grey lips with his and he was kissing this gentleman with real passion, opening the warm, grey mouth with his tongue, feeling that he’d missed this for a long, long time.

_But I don’t know him. How can this be happening?_

The arm around his back held him tighter now, and suddenly he felt the pressure on his thigh of an erection in the grey man’s pants. He sprang back, shoving the man away forcefully because he expected to be restrained. But the arm had let go at the first sign of resistance, and so they flew apart. Jules stumbled and almost fell.

“What’s wrong?” asked Mr. Gant with concern. “Was I holding you too tightly?”

“No, it’s just...” He trailed off, feeling foolish. Who was he to feel so squeamish about a little sex, when he’d done it with worse people for much less money?

Gant looked down ruefully. “Ah, yes—that. I do apologize, but that reaction is out of my control. I wasn’t planning to act on it.”

“Then what _do_ you want?” Jules asked angrily, suddenly afraid of all this kindness..

Mr. Gant held out his hands. “To know you better.”

“For fifty dollars?” he snapped. “One night with me can’t possibly be worth that kind of money. It’s more than I earn in a week.”

“And yet I am perfectly satisfied,” Mr. Gant said kindly.

Jules was ashamed of his outburst. “I’m sorry. I have to go,” he mumbled.

“I will be at Vic’s tomorrow. Will I see you?”

Jules laughed derisively. “Where else would I be? I’m a gigolo. I’m just another piece of furniture around the place.”

“If you want to continue our...conversation, please come by my table. If you don’t come, I won’t bother you further.”

Jules nodded quickly and left. The grey Mr. Gant sat for a long time with his head in his hands.

***

The next morning, Jules rose late as usual, feeling edgy and depressed. His dreams had been disturbing. There was a young man who was a doctor, surrounded by friends, but he’d been abducted from right under their noses and subjected to terrible things. The whole dream was more like an impression than a coherent series of events. Jules wondered why his sleep had been so disturbed. He had been with Gant until after 3 a.m., but he was used to late hours, and he was used to even more than the amount of alcohol he’d consumed.

He spent the few hours of late afternoon resting, eating, fixing a cufflink, shining his shoes. That night, he walked the floor as usual. A married woman whose husband wouldn’t dance monopolized him for a while. That was always delicate, because he had to walk a thin line between flirtatious and formal no matter how drunk or familiar the lady got. Husbands who looked the least observant sometimes flew at him in a fury if they thought his hand was a half-inch too low, or his smile a touch too lascivious. Jules could remember getting a swollen jaw that way once that cut his income for a fortnight. No one wanted to dance with a gigolo who looked like he’d fallen on hard times.

He must have handled this one well, though, because the husband tipped him generously afterwards and even shook his hand. As he discreetly slipped the hard-earned money into the hidden pocket of his jacket, Jules watched Vic come on stage to start a set. The old man was impressive as always. He worked as hard as any of them, maybe harder. This place was his life’s blood, the dream he’d harbored throughout his youth that had finally come true.

_“Come fly with me, come fly, let’s fly away...”_

Oh, that song always gave him a chill. Didn’t he just wish he could fly away from here and never come back? But where would he go? Even the doctor in his dream had problems. No one had it good.

He turned from the stage, looking for another prospect, and found himself standing before Mr. Gant’s table. “Hello,” Jules said, almost shyly.

“Jules,” Mr. Gant said with what seemed like genuine pleasure, “how are you tonight? Won’t you sit down?”

Jules sat, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. He just smiled his customer smile.

“You seem a bit sad tonight, Jules,” Mr. Gant said, observing him closely. “I hope I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“No, sir,” Jules said. “I’ve just been thinking.”

“Ah, thinking! A dangerous pastime, but we all must indulge occasionally.” Gant paused to signal Edi and get some drinks.

Jules sipped his martini and glanced at Mr. Gant. He was dividing his attention between Vic and Jules, and he didn’t seem to expect anything. Some of them expected scintillating conversation, when all you were really thinking about was your sorry existence and your feet that ached from walking the floor all night. Mr. Gant was different. Jules couldn’t figure him out, and, in his experience, that usually meant trouble. Yet he couldn’t help being fascinated by the grey gentleman, as Edi had called him. Jules had to admit that he’d enjoyed their brief dance, and their kiss. Maybe it was himself he couldn’t figure out.

“Will you visit me again tonight?” Mr. Gant asked suddenly.

“I... I don’t know,” Jules said, hesitating.

“Our arrangement will be just the same as last night,” Gant coaxed, “in advance and no expectations.”

“All right, then.” Jules found that he was actually looking forward to it.

“I’ll let you get on with your work, then,” Gant said politely. “I’d rather spend time with you alone.”

A bit disappointed, Jules got up and started scanning automatically for another prospect. Without even thinking about it, he strutted between the tables with the ease of one who knows how good he looks. Jules knew he was beautiful, but that’s all he knew. He had no idea why Mr. Gant would be interested in him if it wasn’t for sex. Maybe that was still to come.

Surveying the floor from a spot to one side of the stage, he noticed that Henry, the bouncer, was looking at him strangely. Henry made him nervous. Jules had seen what he did to unruly drunks. He nodded and Henry nodded back before both continued their rounds.

About halfway down the floor, when he was about to circle and head over towards the stage again, he spotted a lone gentleman who seemed to be beckoning him over. The man didn’t look very nice. His suit looked too new and had the ill-fitting look of ready-made clothes. His hat lay on the table, which meant he was too cheap to pay the hat-check girl, and his hair was curly and much too bushy for the fashion. All in all, he didn’t look a wonderful prospect, but Jules had stared too long to pretend he hadn’t seen the signal. With an ill-concealed sigh, he approached the table.

“Yes, sir?” he asked.

The man seemed discomfited. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you.”

“Yes?” Jules wondered if the man were a bit deranged.

“Sit down. Please.” Jules sat without pulling his chair into the table. “I, uh... What’s your name?”

“Jules.”

“Hello, Jules. I’m Milo.” The name came out of his mouth sounding strange, as if he hadn’t said it many times before.

“I’m really not supposed to call customers by their first names,” Jules lied. He didn’t want to be any more familiar with this fellow than he had to be.

“All right. It’s Mr. O’Malley, then,” said the man, and then he actually blushed. Jules could see where this was going. Rather than let the poor sod flounder around any more, Jules took control.

“So, Mr. O’Malley, did you have something specific in mind?”

“Well, no. That is, I just wanted to talk to you...”

“What about?” Jules asked unkindly.

“About your life, and, well, whatever you want to talk about.”

Jules smiled coldly. “It’s twenty for everything.”

“Excuse me?”

“Twenty. You come to my room after closing time and I do whatever you want for an hour. Twenty, up front.” O’Malley seemed so out of his depth that Jules figured he could name an outrageous price and dictate the terms for once. O’Malley turned beet red. His mouth moved, but no sound came out for a moment. Jules waited, looking him straight in the eye. _The fool,_ Jules thought. _What’s he so ashamed of? I’m a gigolo, the lowest form of life. I’m here to be fucked by morons like him. I don’t even have the privilege of refusing him. Why can’t he just get on with it?_

O’Malley finally spoke. “That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry. I think we’ve had a misunderstanding.”

Jules was overwhelmed by cold anger. He had offered himself to this cretin who couldn’t even say what he wanted. Well, fuck him. “If it’s a quick one in the cloakroom you want, that’s five,” he said flatly, “ten if you want me to swallow.”

Shaking his head, the man closed his eyes and put a hand to his brow. “No,” he said so softly that Jules had trouble understanding him, “no, I don’t want anything like that from you.” He picked up his hat and rose. “I’m sorry, Jules. Really, I’m so sorry. I wish I could help you.” As O’Malley fled, Jules looked after him with a nasty satisfaction tinged with shame that he tried to shake off. _Screw him. Why shouldn’t he feel as bad as I do?_

A moment after Jules left O’Malley’s empty table, the busboys were readying it for another customer. _I can’t worry about every idiot who comes through this place,_ he thought. And then the thought struck him that O’Malley looked familiar. He went through so many customers, it was possible that O’Malley had had him before and Jules didn’t even remember. The thought depressed him so much that he hurried to find another prospect who would buy him a drink.

By the time closing came around, he was charming a table full of high rollers who had dropped a packet at the tables. That was one of his jobs, to sweeten losing for the big spenders so they’d always come back to Vic’s. Jules felt drained by the effort he’d been making to be charming. Maybe he’d skip meeting Mr. Gant tonight. That would pique the grey gentleman’s interest, and maybe the price would go up tomorrow night. Whatever this guy wanted, it had to be strange. Jules had the feeling there wasn’t enough money in the whole casino to pay for it. As the gambling party straggled out, laughing and calling drunken farewells to him, Jules felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, pally, you’re doing great tonight,” Vic said. “But I think you’ve been hitting the sauce a little hard.”

“It wouldn’t be polite to refuse a drink, would it?” Jules was concentrating on not slurring his words. He knew he was more than a shade on the wrong side of sober.

“I hear you have a big date tonight,” Vic said.

“Edi told you?” Jules shot her a frown across the floor.

“Yeah. Listen Julie, this guy—this Gant—he’s a high roller. He’s staying at the hotel all week. We want to keep him happy, okay?”

“Sure, Vic.” Damn it, why did Vic have to get involved in this?

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to do, but stay with him a while tonight, all right?”

Jules nodded and headed for the elevators. He didn’t want to discuss it any further, and Gant was expecting him.

“Do you think that was wise?” Ezri whispered to Vic as she watched the elevator doors close behind Jules.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Vic said philosophically, “but I suddenly had the feeling he wasn’t going to keep his appointment.

***

Gant answered quickly tonight, as if he had been standing by the door waiting. _What is it about me that interests him?_ Jules thought. _I’m nobody_.

“Jules. I was starting to wonder if you’d come.”

“What if I hadn’t?”

“I would have been disappointed.”

“Why?” There it was again. The longer Gant’s real interest in him remained a secret, the more suspicious Jules became that the grey man wanted him to do something dangerous.

“Come, sit down. Can I offer you a drink?”

Jules sat on the couch. “Coffee, if it’s not too much trouble.” His head was spinning badly from the last few martinis.

Gant prepared coffee in the small pot provided by the hotel. It smelled good, but it didn’t taste that way. Jules drank it anyway. He needed his wits about him.

Gant sank down next to him on the sofa—close, but not touching. Jules noticed how powerful his shoulders were, how thick his arms and chest. If this man decided to overpower him, Jules wouldn’t stand a chance. Jules also realized that he found Gant more than a little attractive. That thought frightened him more than all the rest. He had been willing to suck off the unpleasant looking Milo O’Malley, but he worried that Gant’s mere touch would spin him off in currents of feeling he couldn’t control.

When Jules finished his coffee, Gant rose to take the cup away and put a record on the turntable. It was Ella Fitzgerald singing “Moonlight in Vermont,” one of the most romantic songs Jules knew. He knew the moment had arrived.

Gant held out his hand. “Would you like to dance?”

 _Yes,_ Jules thought, _yes, I would. But maybe that’s a good reason not to_.

Without speaking, he rose and touched Gant’s hand, feeling a bit ridiculous. But with the strong arm wrapped around his waist and Gant’s cheek pressed against his, he felt, against all reason, safe. They moved together less awkwardly tonight, even daring to try a few fancy steps. Resting on Gant’s shoulder, Jules’s hand seemed to move of its own accord to a place near the collar, then to the grey neck. His skin ached to touch Gant’s all over. _How has he gotten to me like this?_ Jules asked himself in a panic. _He’s only here for a week amusing himself. Then he’ll leave, and I’ll be..._

“I want to go,” he murmured, but he didn’t move away.

“I won’t force you to stay,” Gant said in his ear, “but try to relax. Stay with me a while. I forgot to give you your money.”

“I don’t care about the money,” Jules said, realizing it was true. “I’m afraid.”

“What are you afraid of?” Gant asked soothingly.

“The way you make me feel,” Jules confessed drunkenly. Gant shifted his arm so that their chests touched. Jules sighed and wrapped both arms around Gant’s neck. When he closed his eyes, the room still spun. To hell with it. He was drunk and this felt good and he was going to enjoy himself for a change. Let someone else take care of him this time. He pulled back his head and found Gant’s mouth. The song ended and another came on while they stood there kissing.

Jules wanted to be naked, pressed up against the smooth grey skin. Somehow he knew what Gant must look like naked and he wanted him, wanted him with all his heart. Gant’s hands were pressed against his back, keeping him from falling while Gant’s mouth possessed his. And Jules wanted to be possessed, wanted to belong to this mysterious, grey man.

Jules was hard and ready, consumed by desire. “Take me,” he whispered against Gant’s lips. “I want you inside me.”

But in his mind those words conjured up a nightmare, a forest of grey cocks, grey faces that menaced him, mocked him, hurt him more than he’d ever been hurt. And Gant was there with him, there by his side. Had Gant hurt him? Why couldn’t he remember?

He backed away, out of the strong arms. “I don’t...” he started. “I can’t...”

“It’s all right,” Gant said soothingly. “I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want. His erection stood out clearly in his pants. Jules regarded it with horror. “I won’t undress,” said Gant, moving towards him slowly. “It doesn’t matter if I’m satisfied. What matters is how you feel. Let me touch you. Let me do what you want.”

Jules backed up into the bed and sat down abruptly. His head still spun; his cock was aching and hard. “I don’t know what I want,” he cried.

“It’s all right,” Gant said again. “I can help you.”

Gant knelt and removed Jules’s shoes and socks, then his jacket, tie and shirt, laying them neatly on a chair. He worked methodically, gently touching each newly revealed area of skin. His regular movements calmed Jules, who caught Gant’s head in his hands for a kiss. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “I can take it. Go ahead and do it.”

“No,” Gant said firmly, “I’m going to satisfy you. I want you to look at yourself now, Jules. See how beautiful you are?”

Turning, Jules looked at his image in the mirrored closet doors. He saw a tall, slim young man with olive skin and dark hair wearing shorts and an undershirt. His erection pushed the shorts out at an angle. He stood unsteadily and let Gant remove his undershirt and push his shorts to the floor.

“Now look,” Gant said.

Jules looked, impressed. It was true. He was beautiful standing next to Gant. His eyes were sensitive and deep, his lips full with an ironic quirk to them. His body was thin but well- proportioned, and his erection slim and long.

“See, Jules? See how rare you are?”

Jules watched the irony in his mouth become bitterness. “I suppose I see what my customers see in me.”

“Your customers don’t deserve you. There’s much more to you than your body. The beauty that you see there comes from you, from who you are.” As Jules continued to gaze, he saw in the mirror that Gant had knelt beside him. He felt kisses on his thighs and scrotum and then Gant’s tongue stroking his cock.

“Why are you doing this?” he cried in pleasure and fear. “You don’t know anything about me. I’m nothing. I’m a gigolo. I’m only here to be used by people like you. Why are you treating me as if I matter?”

“Because you do,” Gant said, taking Jules’s erection into his mouth.

Jules dropped back on the bed and Gant followed him, caressing his thighs and chest and swallowing around his cock. Jules stopped objecting, but he still rode his fear in huge waves with his drunkenness and his arousal. He was tossed on an open sea of feeling. Gant seemed to touch him everywhere at once, stroking and holding him, kissing his belly and whispering sweet words that he didn’t always hear, but that sounded familiar and comforting.

Jules held Gant’s head between his hands, stroking the silky hair, the strong brow. He was moved that someone would do this for him, would seem so happy just to give him pleasure.

Gradually, as Jules grew more aroused, Gant concentrated more and more on his cock, holding it in both hands and bobbing his head up and down over it, licking it ravenously until Jules’s vision grew cloudy and exploded into stars. He spent himself into Gant’s mouth with his fingers entwined in the smooth hair.

“I owe you...ten dollars,” he panted, and fell asleep.

The grey gentleman stood and looked at Jules spread out on his bed, his skin burnished gold by sweat and the dim lights. Ten dollars, indeed. Well, the demons of self-hatred weren’t yet banished, but look how much more trusting he’d become in one night. Ezri was right—this was what Julian needed. It was working. With hope in his heart, the grey gentleman drew a cover over Jules and sat down in his armchair to wait for the dawn.

“Damn it, Dax!” Sisko said explosively. “This isn’t working.”

“But it is, Benjamin,” Ezri said patiently. “Julian is starting to trust Garak. He’s on the way to losing the guilt and self-hatred he feels. I admit he has a long way to go, but...”

“Oh, letting Garak suck him off while he was drunk? _That_ shows trust? To me, it shows that Garak is willing to take advantage of Julian for his own pleasure, that’s what it shows. I’m pulling the plug.”

“But you can’t, Benjamin!” Ezri cried. “Once this treatment is started you can’t stop it until the drugs wear off. Julian could become more disoriented and withdrawn than ever. We could lose him completely.”

Sisko considered her words. “Well then, we’re making some changes anyway.”

“What changes? You aren’t the mental health professional here, Captain. In my professional judgment, things are going as well as possible.”

“Is Garak a counselor?” Sisko snapped. “I’m going to talk to Julian.”

“He’s afraid of Henry, Benjamin. You’ll have to tread lightly. I saw the way you looked at him last night—he was actually scared. And remember, you can’t mention anything from his real life until he remembers it himself. You heard how he reacted to Miles yesterday. Julian thought he was a client.”

“To cure Dr. Bashir, we’ve convinced him that he’s a prostitute,” Sisko said darkly. “Are these drugs making him more sexual?”

“No,” said Ezri, with a slight blush, “that’s just the way Julian is.”

Sisko sighed. “How am I going to report this?”

“You don’t have to—I do,” Ezri said crisply. “It’s my responsibility. Just leave it alone.”

Sisko shook his head. “Ultimately I have to answer for everything that happens on this station. I’m going to do what I think is right.”

***

Asleep on Gant’s bed in the cold light of dawn, Jules had a dream. He was in a chilling place, a sort of prison. The bunks were lumpy and crawling with vermin, reeking with the scent of every frightened prisoner who had slept in them. The guards were grey men with faces of bone who made abrupt, violent motions, punishing prisoners harshly for the least offense. There was something they wanted to know from him, something he couldn’t remember. They stripped off his clothes and beat him. He wasn’t sure that they heard him when he cursed them until he saw one coming toward him with his stiff grey cock, and as he watched, as if from somewhere outside his body, it pushed into his mouth, choking off his cries of protest. Another came, and yet another, until he was retching helplessly, gasping for breath, so that they turned him over and started fucking him in the ass, silently, without a word, or a grunt, or a cry. He knew then that it didn’t matter what he said or didn’t say. They crowded around him, taking their turns in uncanny silence while he retched and cried out for them to stop. He awoke, still gagging.

“Jules...?” Gant’s concerned face hovered over him.

“You were there with me in prison,” Jules said sleepily, “with the doctor. Why do I keep dreaming I’m a doctor?”

“Do you, now?” asked Gant. “They say that dreams tell us things that we’re afraid to face in real life.”

“My dreams are worse than my life,” Jules joked, more awake now. “I suppose that’s merciful.” He realized with a jolt that he was lying there naked talking to Gant about his private thoughts, feeling perfectly comfortable. The fear rolled back over him.

“I still owe you ten dollars,” he said, rising and wrapping the sheet around him, looking for his clothes. “Sorry about last night. I must have had more to drink than I thought.”

“I enjoyed last night,” Gant said simply, looking at him with his head cocked to one side, a gesture that seemed annoyingly familiar.

“You enjoyed sucking my dick?” Jules said viciously. “I’ve done that hundreds of times and I’ve never enjoyed it.”

“Yes, you have,” Gant said softy.

“Oh, yes, that’s why I had a dream that a dozen prison guards were fucking me in the mouth. That’s why I woke up gagging.” Jules said sarcastically.

Gant shrugged. “Listen to your dreams, Jules, but look beyond them, too.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jules spat. “And where are my clothes? I’d like to go.”

“I hung them in the closet.” Gant pulled out a hanger that held Jules’s tux, neatly pressed.

Rather than thanking him, Jules said, “I’m going to cut a fine figure wearing a tux at six in the morning. Oh, well, it won’t be the first time I stayed out all night.”

“Will I see you tonight?” Gant asked.

“I doubt it,” Jules said maliciously. He dressed as quickly as he could and left without another word.

***

That evening Jules was relieved and disappointed to see that Gant’s usual table was taken by a laughing foursome who talked and joked with Vic between sets. More high rollers. Jules was sick to death of them. They thought they owned the world.

He sat down with a few customers, but he was taking it easy on the booze tonight. He was grateful that Gant hadn’t turned out to be really perverted—he might have gotten himself hurt. Damn, he had to watch that. This was a dangerous life.

His customers kept him dancing tonight. Two women with boring husbands at one table seemed to have decided to take turns with him, whispering things about him and dissolving into giggles every time he changed partners. He supposed they were wondering what it would be like to take him to bed. They looked pretty good to him, too, except for the husbands. What would they think if they knew he’d been sucked off by the grey gentleman the night before? Would that arouse or disgust them? He toyed for a while with the idea of telling one of them and finding out, but decided against ruining his tips, which turned out to be handsome.

When the two tipsy couples left, Jules became aware that Henry was hovering around, watching him. Wondering nervously what the bouncer wanted, he decided to retire to the employees’ cloakroom for a break, but Henry headed him off.

“Jules,” he said in his deep voice, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“What’s wrong, Henry?” he asked. Maybe one of his customers had made problems. Hell, maybe Mr. Crazy Gant had done something.

“I was just wondering,” said Henry hesitantly, “if that gentleman was bothering you last night.”

Jules was surprised. Henry usually only concerned himself with people who made a scene or didn’t pay their gambling debts. “Mr. Gant? No, actually, he paid me well for nothing but a little conversation. Why do you ask?”

“I just wondered,” said Henry. He started to move away.

“Wondered what? If he had me?” Jules suddenly resented Henry’s incursion into his private life. “Is that what you’re interested in, Henry? Having me?”

Henry looked upset. “No, of course not, Julian, I just...”

Julian? Who was that? And, right away, he knew. Julian was the doctor in his nightmare. “Why did you call me that? How did you know about him?” Jules took the bouncer by the shoulders and tried to keep him from going.

“I just made a mistake, that’s all. Calm down, Jules.” Henry pulled himself out of Jules’s hands and stalked off across the floor.

Everyone seemed to be inside his head. What was going on here? The echoes of marching feet from the prison seemed to boom through his thoughts. Grey faces loomed in his inner eye.

“Jules?” Edi said gently. “What is it?”

Jules realized he had been standing in the middle of the floor holding his head with both hands. People were staring. He began to walk towards the cloakroom with Edi beside him. “Henry said something strange to me. He called me... Julian.”

“Henry’s been acting strangely lately,” Edi said comfortingly. “Vic’s thinking of firing him.”

“Really?”

“Yes, so just ignore him. Go take a break.” When she had seen Jules safely into the cloakroom and sat him down with a glass of water, she walked with a determined step over to where Henry lurked at the edge of the room.

“Benjamin, I wasn’t going to pull rank on you here, but as the counselor in charge of Julian’s treatment I’m asking you to leave the simulation. I had to give him an extra dose just now because he was so upset.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset him. And, anyway, you’re not Julian. Only he can order me to leave for medical reasons.”

“Well, isn’t that ironic,” Ezri said rudely. “You almost ruined everything. Now get out of here so I can make a holodouble of you before Julian comes back.”

“I’m going to be observing closely from outside,” Sisko said. “Julian looks terribly unstable to me. I think this scenario is pushing him over the edge. Tell Garak he’s out of it as of now.”

“No, Benjamin. This is a mistake. If Jules doesn’t make some progress every night, we could fail.”

“Then I want to talk to you and Garak in the morning.” He stalked into the kitchen and through the refrigerator back to Quark’s bar.

When Jules returned to the floor, Henry wasn’t looking at him at all. Maybe Edi was right. Henry _had_ been acting a little odd. Maybe Vic or Edi had told him to lay off.

He passed the front row tables, automatically looking for prospects between sets. An interesting looking couple had Gant’s table now. She was good looking—she reminded him of someone he’d kissed once, but he couldn’t remember who. The gentleman had rather a strange face. He looked familiar too. They were laughing, obviously enjoying each other’s company. Clearly, he wasn’t needed there. His job was to spice things up for people who were too dull to entertain themselves. To his surprise, they beckoned to him as he passed.

“Are you Jules?” the woman asked him.

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” he answered with a flirtatious smile. “Have you heard of me?”

The woman giggled and the man smiled. “Edi told us you were a marvelous dancer,” she said.

Jules bowed. “At your service.”

“Well, my husband thinks he’s a good dancer, too, but Edi said she thinks you’re better. Would you mind if we had a contest?”

Jules smiled again. He was in his element here. “Why not? M’lady? He held out his hand invitingly. The band was playing an instrumental set for dancing and the floor was crowded with couples.

“Please, sit down and have a drink first,” the man invited him cordially. “Dancing is thirsty work.”

Jules had a highball that he only drank half of. He took pride in his dancing and wanted to make sure he was at his best. The woman, whose name was Mrs. Olds, drank champagne. Mr. Olds hardly sipped at his drink, a pink lady. In Jules’s experience people who drank sweet drinks like that really didn’t like alcohol.

“All right,” said Mrs. Olds. “First I’ll dance with my husband so you can see what you’re up against.” They rose gracefully and swirled out onto the dance floor. Mr. Olds was good, but Jules knew quite a few moves he didn’t. He knew he could win.

When Jules’s turn came the band was playing “I’ve Got the World on a String.” He took hold of Mrs. Olds and whirled her around. She followed him beautifully, allowing him to move her where he wanted her. They put on such a good show that people stopped dancing to watch. Jules was exhilarated with his own skill. Dancing like this gave him a rush of excitement that came close to being sexual. As the song came to a close, he finished with a flourish, twirling Mrs. Olds around and bending her back so that she landed lying in his arms with her feet barely touching the ground. Before he knew what he’d done, he bent over and kissed her. The other dancers applauded and laughed as he raised her to her feet. Mrs. Olds looked flustered, but not especially angry.

“Have I... have we kissed before?” he asked softy, feeling foolish.

“Yes,” she whispered uncomfortably. “A long time ago.” Then they were back at the table and he was handing her back into her seat.

“I lost sight of you at the end,” Mr. Olds said. “There were too many people.” Jules breathed a sigh of relief.

“Don’t worry, he was as marvelous as Edi said. He wins, dear. Give him a prize.”

“No, no,” Jules demurred, “I’ve already had my prize.” Mrs. Olds blushed as Mr. Olds smiled and handed him a twenty. Damn big rollers. They’d had fun with him and now they were done.

He walked off aimlessly, putting away his money. He’d kissed her before, he knew it, but when? At some party, he thought. He remembered her long eyelashes and the funny little bumps on her nose. He hadn’t been able to resist her, and there had been something else he was supposed to be doing. If he’d kissed her, why didn’t he know her first name? _Pelisse. Nelisse. Something like that..._

He was distracted by a few more offers to dance. He had a reputation to maintain now. The women who wanted to dance with him were paying for a thrill. They wanted everyone to see them being thrown around the dance floor by a competent partner, and they wanted to end up draped over his arm like Mrs. Olds. He gave out a few more kisses where he thought he could get away with it, but he never had that sense of _deja vu_ he’d had with Mrs. Olds.

Inspired by his example, all the couples seemed to be more daring tonight, taking chances they didn’t usually take on the slippery floor. A woman went down right in front of Jules, and he helped her partner get her to her seat. Without thinking, he squatted down to examine her ankle.

“It’s not broken,” he said after sending Edi for a bucket of ice, “but you should stay off it for a few days. It’s a nasty sprain.” He looked with wonder at his hands that ran competently over each muscle and tendon. How did he know all their names? Was he the doctor in his dream? Did he have a mysterious double who shared his life?

While the band was taking a breather, Jules looked over towards Mr. Gant’s table and saw him there. They eyes met and Jules felt a swift current of excitement pass through him. _Run away, don’t walk,_ he thought. _This guy is trouble. I was right to say I wouldn’t see him tonight._

Turning to leave, he bumped into someone. Muttering an apology, he realized it was Mr. O’Malley and started to pass him without a sign of recognition.

“Say, Jules,” O’Malley said awkwardly.

Jules stopped. He might despise this man but he could lose his job for being rude to a customer. “Yes, Mr. O’Malley?” he said.

“I wonder—I mean, I’m sorry we had that misunderstanding last night.”

“So am I,” Jules murmured insincerely.

“I wonder if we could sit down and talk about it. I mean, I’d buy you a drink, and what I really wanted to talk about was your girlfriend.” Jules stared. “I mean, the waitress.”

The light dawned. “You want a date with Edi?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Why don’t you ask her?” Really this fellow was too much. Maybe he wanted a threesome and was afraid to say so.

“Well, I wanted to ask you about her first, you know.”

“All right,” said Jules, relenting. He could order a beer and rest his feet after that last long set.

They sat at a table near the back and talked aimlessly about Edi, Vic, and the place. Jules couldn’t understand what O’Malley was getting out of it for the price of his drink. As he talked, his eyes were continually drawn to Gant, and Gant kept looking back at him. _You’re playing with fire, Jules, my boy_. But the thought made him grin. Compared to O’Malley, Gant really was magnificent.

He looked at O’Malley for a few seconds, and so he missed the moment when Gant got up from his chair and approached them. Jules looked up just in time to see Gant standing right in front of him.

“May I join you?” Gant asked cordially.

Why would a high roller like Gant want to sit with O’Malley? The answer was that he wanted to sit with Jules. Maybe he was worried that Jules was about to go with this guy and wanted to get in the way. This was getting interesting. Jules had to admit that it turned him on to have a good-looking man lay claim to him in front of everyone. Once again he was giving in to Gant’s charm.

“Mr. Gant, this is Mr. O’Malley,” Jules said, looking deep into those eyes. He stood slowly. Their lips were so close he could feel Gant’s breath on his face. Here in public where things couldn’t go too far Jules felt like letting loose a little bit, and, besides, he wanted to show Mr. O’Malley a thing or two.

Their lips came together slowly, but this was no chaste kiss. Jules opened his mouth to let Gant’s tongue push in as deep as it could go. If Vic saw them, there’d be trouble for sure, but the look on O’Malley’s face was worth it. At first only their mouths had touched, but now Gant brought one hand up to caress the side of Jules’s neck and face. They continued to kiss, their mouths crushed together, their tongues joined in a sensual dance. With his eyes closed and that hot, ravenous mouth on his, Jules forgot where he was, forgot O’Malley and even Vic.

O’Malley didn’t know where to look. He cast his gaze around the room but it always returned to the two men before him. He didn’t notice that someone had slid into the chair beside him until he heard a sardonic voice.

“Well. I see that all conversation at this table has stopped.”

O’Brien was grateful to have a distraction, even if it was Quark. “Yeah. I’ve never seen him act like that before,” he murmured.

Edi came rushing up to tap Jules on the shoulder. “Uh, gentlemen, I have a message from Vic.” Reluctantly, they broke off their kiss. Jules looked flushed and aroused. His lips were red and wet and slightly swollen. He glanced at O’Malley and smiled voluptuously. “Vic says to request that you take this upstairs. Later.”

“All right, Edi. Thanks for the word,” said Jules a little breathlessly. “Listen, this guy over here wanted me to ask you about a date. His name’s O’Malley.”

“Thanks, Jules.” She gave O’Malley a big smile that made him blush. “Don’t worry too much about Vic, okay?” she whispered. “He’s not that mad.”

Mr. Gant nodded to everyone and then, placing one hand in the small of Jules’s back, escorted Jules to his own table.

“Yes, Mr. O’Malley? You wanted a date? And you, a married man,” Edi said facetiously. “You need to hang around until closing now, you know. Make sure you leave with me.”

“Ezri, I’ve never seen Julian act like this before,” O’Malley said. “He’s so...”

“Uninhibited?” she finished.

“Yeah. He’s usually so restrained.”

“Not anymore,” interjected Quark, shaking his head.

Edi shrugged. “The drugs may have removed some of his inhibitions, I suppose,” she said, “but it’s also the role he’s playing. Julian has a certain, very strict idea of how a Star Fleet officer should behave. Well, now he’s Jules, a gigolo. He has nothing to lose.”

O’Malley shook his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Ezri.”

“It’s Edi. And, me too. See you at closing.” She winked at him and left.

“What’s your name?” O’Malley asked Quark. Quark look at him as if he were deranged. “In the simulation, I mean,” O’Malley said, annoyed.

“Quincey. Mr. Quincey. Don’t worry about it. I won’t be staying long. I don’t like to encourage the competition, and in my own holosuite, too. I’m nurturing a viper in my breast,” he said dramatically.

“What’s at stake here is Julian’s whole future,” O’Malley said. “Can’t you think of anyone but yourself?”

Quark pointed to Gant’s table, where Gant and Jules were talking earnestly. One of Gant’s hands covered Jules’s where it lay on the table. “What kind of future are we giving him? Look how disgusting that is.”

“Yeah,” O’Malley agreed, “why did he decide to fall for a Cardassian?”

“The love of my life is Cardassian,” Quincey said indignantly. “I meant...well, you know. They’re both men.”

“Oh,” O’Malley said uncomfortably, “that’s not what bothers me. I just don’t trust Garak.”

“We agree there,” said Quincey. They stared silently for a moment. “And, let’s face it,” Quincey continued, “neither of us has been getting any lately, have we?”

O’Malley blushed again. “Amen,” he murmured.

Watching Gant and Jules through the observation port, Ezri sighed. “It’s so romantic.”

“Look at that,” Sisko said with irritation. “You think that’s helping him?”

Ezri had gone to pick up an order at the bar when Sisko had summoned her from the observation post just inside the holosuite. “He’s starting to feel comfortable being sexual. Yes, I’d say that was a step forward.”

“But why does it have to be with Garak?” Sisko persisted. “Why are we trying to help Garak have sex with him?”

“Sex is what this is all about, Benjamin.”

“Rape isn’t sex,” Sisko said tartly, “it’s violence.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more. But it’s sexual violence. What the Jem’Hadar did to Julian was the kind of thing that two males do to express their love for one another, but the Jem’Hadar perverted those actions so much that now in his mind Julian associates sexuality with pain and humiliation.”

“But wouldn’t it be easier to help him feel comfortable being sexual with a woman?”

Ezri eyed him doubtfully. “What are you getting at, Benjamin?”

“You and Julian had something going last year. Wouldn’t being with you give him a gentler reintroduction to sex?”

Ezri’s mouth twisted in anger. “Julian and I _had_ something going, Benjamin, that’s right. But for the last few months before his abduction he and Garak were in love.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. You and I haven’t seen eye to eye on this since the beginning. I can’t imagine anyone being more careful or gentler with Julian than Garak. What is it really, Benjamin—is it that you don’t trust Garak, or is it the fact that Garak is a man?”

Sisko looked discomfited. “Both, I think,” he admitted.

“Well, that’s not Julian’s problem, or Garak’s, that’s your problem, and I suggest you think about it.” Without another word she flounced back out to the floor.

Jules felt happier than he had in a long time sitting at Mr. Gant’s table sipping champagne. He’d worked hard tonight, earning a lot of tips and making a lot of customers happy, and now that it was almost closing time and the crowd had thinned out Vic wouldn’t begrudge him a long break. Besides, by being here he was making Mr. Gant happy, too. He could see it in the clear blue eyes, feel it in the touch of Gant’s grey hand on his.

“So, enough about me,” Gant was saying. “How did you end up working for Vic?”

Jules looked down at his glass. He didn’t like to talk about this, but somehow he wanted to give Gant an answer. “Vic saved me, Mr. Gant,” he began. “I was on my way to becoming a streetwalker. Vic took me in and dressed me up, gave me a place to live. I’ll stay with him as long as he wants me, and I’ll never do anything to hurt him.”

“I see,” Gant mused. “He has fairly strict standards about how you are supposed to behave, doesn’t he?”

Jules smiled. “A little kiss now and then isn’t frowned upon, but what we were doing was probably a little too steamy for him.”

“What about you? How did you feel about it?”

Jules shrugged and smiled flirtatiously. “How do you suppose I felt with your tongue down my throat? Everyone in the place must think I’m yours.”

“And you like that thought.” Gant’s eyes were hypnotic. Jules didn’t want to look away. “You wanted to impress Mr. O’Malley with that, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Jules laughed. “What an awkward fool. I think he was more interested in Edi than me, anyway.”

“I can’t understand that preference,” Gant said charmingly. “Do you have to stay here until closing time?”

“Yes, in fact I ought to be walking the floor, except that Vic asked me to keep you happy.”

“Did he?”

“Yes. I’d be in his good graces tonight if you lost a little money at the tables.”

Gant laughed heartily. “Tomorrow I’ll oblige him, then, although I hope to win.” He took his hand off Julian’s and pulled the champagne bottle out of its ice water bath, wiped it carefully, and refilled both their glasses. “Will you come to my room tonight?”

“Come to mine,” Jules said impulsively.

Gant smiled, surprised. “If you really want me to, I will.”

“I really do, but I have to work until closing now. Meet me there later.”

Jules gave him the number and slipped him a key before draining his glass and going over to join a discontented-looking couple. The man was dopey looking with large ears, but his companion was pretty and had a sweet expression. She was stroking the man’s shoulders, obviously trying to comfort him. Jules diagnosed that they were unaccustomed to gambling and had just lost more money than they could afford.

“Good evening,” he said charmingly, suddenly wondering if he’d seen the woman somewhere before. “Is everything all right?”

“I had a bad day at work,” the man said in a comical moan. “One of the replicators...”

“Darling,” the woman said, quickly shushing him, “this gentleman doesn’t want to hear about our troubles.”

“Oh, but I do,” said Jules kindly, sitting down. “That’s what I’m here for. Tell away.”

“Well, Chief O’Brien said....”

The woman cut him off. “Maybe I’d better tell, dear.” The husband nodded mutely. “My husband’s boss was annoyed at him today. He did something that he thought was clever, and I’m _sure_ it was clever, dear, but it messed up some other gadget and it blew a circuit, and, well, I don’t really understand it, but the chief blamed it all on Ron.”

“Ron?” the husband echoed stupidly.

“Yes, dear, of course,” she said slowly, as if to a child. “You’re Ron and I’m Lilla.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” Ron scratched behind his enormous ear and grimaced. Jules was having trouble keeping the laughter inside. He’d met many couples, but never a stranger one than this.

“The band is almost ready to pack up,” Jules said, glancing at the stage. “If you’re going to dance, you should do it now.”

“Oh, I don’t dance,” said Ron quickly.

“I do.” Lilla batted her eyelashes at him.

“So do I,” said Jules charmingly. He rose and held out his hand. “May I?”

Lilla giggled a little as she took his hand, then proceeded to wrap her arms around his neck and dance close very to him. Jules could feel her arm wiggle as she waved to her husband over his shoulder. Catching Gant’s amused expression, he smiled and raised his eyebrows comically. He wouldn’t bet on getting a tip from these odd people, but, strangely enough, he didn’t care. Just thinking about seeing Gant later had raised his spirits.

This woman’s scent was giving him the same strange feeling he’d had with Mrs. Olds. He’d held her in his arms before, he was sure of it. _What’s the matter with you, Jules_ , he thought. _A few years over thirty and you’re losing your memory._

“Have we met?” he murmured to Lilla.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” she said, looking into his face, “but I don’t see how we could have.”

“I suppose you just remind me of someone.”

“I hope she’s nice,” said Lilla.

The music ended, and Jules walked Lilla back to her table.

“Yes,” he said, puzzled, “I think she is.”

With all the business of dividing up tips and collecting wages, Jules arrived in his room after Gant was already there. He felt a little awkward about the invitation now. His room was a bit messy, with clothes and shoes lying around. At least the housekeeper had made up the bed.

“I don’t often have guests,” he said. “I mean, not guests like you,” he added lamely, realizing that Gant must know he had men up here to bed him several times a week.

Gant smiled. “You don’t need to impress me. I’m happy to be here.”

Jules cleared off a couple of chairs and made coffee on his little hotplate. He wasn’t supposed to have it in his room because of the fire hazard, but all the employees had one. The coffee turned out well, better than what he’d had at Gant’s. That was good.

He cleared the empty cups and sat back down at the table. Now he felt awkward. His room was smaller than Gant’s and he had no sofa, only a table and chairs, one armchair, and the bed. At least the bed was big enough for two, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to go there yet. For all the passion he had put into that kiss, he was still afraid of what might happen between them in private.

Startled, Jules noticed that Mr. Gant had put two fifty-dollar bills on the table. “I owe you some money from last night,” Gant said.

“I think I can make change,” Jules said sharply. So, it was still a matter of money between them.

“Change?”

“I still owe you ten.” They looked at each other.

Gant took the money back and put it in his wallet. “I apologize. I forgot you said you didn’t care about the money.”

“I meant it,” Jules said indignantly.

“I know. Forgive me. It’s just that I want to do something for you, and I don’t know how.”

Jules nodded. “It’s strange, meeting like this. We’re so different. I feel as if I know you, but I don’t, really. And you’ve been very kind.”

“It’s not kindness. I enjoy your company.” Gant looked around, distracted. “Do you have a phonograph?”

“Yes.” Julian got it out of the closet and set it up on the table. “I don’t play it much when I have guests.”

Gant picked up the stack of records and started to look through them. “I hate to think of you doing what you have to do,” he said, still looking down at the titles.

“It’s my life,” Jules said simply, “don’t have any illusions about that. You and I come from different worlds. I’ve been used by more creeps than you’ll ever meet. I have to take their money and let them fuck me in the ass. I have to drink their cum. I have to let them pant and drool over me and tell me I’m gorgeous when I just want to be let alone.” Jules got up and walked over to the dark window to draw the curtains. “I’m sorry,” he said shakily. “I didn’t mean to complain. It gets to me sometimes.”

Gant put a record on the turntable and started it going. Ella sang:

_I thought I’d found the man of my dreams._

_Now it seems_

_This is how the story ends._

_He’s going to turn me down and say_

_Can’t we be friends._

“There’s no money between us now,” said Gant, holding out his arms. “We’re equals. If I do anything to disgust you, throw me out.”

Jules went to him slowly, easing into his embrace. They danced smoothly now. Jules nuzzled his face into Gant’s neck, breathing him in. “Mr. Gant,” he said, sighing, “I don’t deserve your kindness. I’m supposed to do what the customers want. I have a good life here.”

Gant held him closer and softly kissed his ear. “Jules,” he breathed, “sweet Jules. My name is Ellis. I’d like you to call me that.”

Jules mouthed his neck, planting kisses down the ridge of ornamented skin from Gant’s ear to his collar. “Take off your jacket, Ellis,” he whispered. “Loosen your collar. I want to touch your skin.”

They took off their jackets and their shoes. Jules loosened Gant’s tie and removed his shirt and collar. Underneath he wore a sleeveless undershirt made out of fine white cotton. Jules left it on him, liking the way it set off Gant’s muscular arms. Gant undid Jules’s clothing skillfully, in contrast to some of his customers who sent studs and cufflinks flying and tore his linen, not caring that if they ruined his clothes, they could cost him his livelihood.

Stripped to the waist, barefoot, Jules fell back into Gant’s comforting embrace. A new song was playing now.

_The way you wear your hat,_

_The way you sip your tea,_

_The memory of all that—_

_No, no, they can’t take that away from me._

Slipping his hands into Gant’s undershirt, Jules realized that he wanted to take it off so that he could press his bare chest against the other man’s. He pulled it up and over Gant’s head to reveal an expanse of warm, grey skin. Uninhibited, Jules rubbed himself up against Gant while Gant kissed his neck and shoulders, grazing them with his teeth.

_We may never, never meet again_

_On the bumpy road to love._

_Still, I’ll always, always keep the memory of..._

_The way you hold your knife,_

_The way we danced ‘til three,_

_The way you changed my life,_

_No, no they can’t take that away from me._

It came too close for comfort, that song. How long would Gant be here? Jules found his lips and kissed them hard, pushing his tongue inside. Gant responded, flicking his tongue around Jules’s as it explored his mouth. Once again, Jules felt the hard bulge against his thigh but was careful to ignore it. How perverse he was! He’d let any bum off the street with ten dollars bugger him, but he wouldn’t touch this man he felt so passionate about. He wondered if Gant was jacking himself off every night after Jules had left him unsatisfied. The image fired Jules up until he thought he might come in his pants.

“What is it, Jules? What are you thinking?” Gant whispered, feeling his heat. “Do you want me to do what I did last night?”

“Oh, yes,” Jules gasped, wondering if he’d even get his pants off in time, “and then I want you to....”

“What? I’ll do anything you ask.”

“I want to see you touch yourself.” Jules suddenly felt very strange asking such a thing. What if Gant got angry?

Instead, Jules felt a new fervor in Gant’s kisses as he undid Jules’s belt and trousers, letting them drop to the floor. Gant knelt and pulled Jules’s shorts to his ankles. Embracing Jules around the ass, Gant swallowed him to the hilt, sucking ferociously. Crying out, Jules came violently and long, finally losing his balance and sliding to his knees through Gant’s arms.

“Ellis,” he said, still trembling. Gant kissed him gently now, with the taste of Jules in his mouth.

“I ought to raise my prices,” he whispered.

Jules laughed. “You don’t have to do what I asked for,” he said softly. “I don’t have any right. Why don’t you just fuck me? Isn’t that what you’d rather do?”

“I’d rather please you,” said Gant. “Sit there, up against the bed.” Jules moved back obediently.

“I’m not accustomed to putting on a show,” Gant said wryly. Still kneeling, he pulled his trousers and shorts down to his knees and sat back on his legs. “Why don’t you talk me though this, Jules?” He started to stroke himself easily. Jules feasted his eyes on the bulky erection, imagining what it might feel like to take that into himself. No, that wasn’t what he wanted right now. In fact, somehow, the thought nauseated him. But it was magnificent, a fitting appendage to this impressive man.

“You’re so big,” Jules said, wondering what Gant would want to hear. “If you fucked me with it I’d scream, I’d... Ellis, look. Looking at you is making me hard again, already. He took his own cock in hand and pumped it up further. Gant smiled at him and half closed his eyes. The large, grey cock was even bigger now, with a red tip showing under the foreskin. Jules just wanted to hold it in his hand, to feel the warmth of it, the slickness. He wanted to see Gant lose himself in pleasure under Jules’s hand, not his own.

Quietly, he crawled over and replaced Gant’s hand with both of his, ravishing Gant’s mouth and pumping him steadily. Jules had never felt this way with a customer before. He was doing this of his own free will, enjoying it as he never enjoyed it when he was being paid, when he was a slave to someone else’s desires. Gant had asked nothing of him and so he was willing to give.

Gant let himself be taken, only laying his hands at Jules’s hips without trying to pull him in. He was breathing hard now, moaning a little in the back of his throat, and his cock was stiffer than ever and getting very hot. Jules moved in a euphoric cloud, feeling the heat rising from Gant’s powerful body—all that power in thrall to his two hands, his lips. And then Gant groaned deep in his chest, and the hot liquid splashed over Jules’s chest and cock, dripping down to his thighs. They embraced with the slickness between them and lay down on the carpet pressed together.

Later they rose and washed, not saying much, but not needing to. Julian heated some tinned soup on the hot plate and they ate companionably. They slept chastely in Jules’s bed wearing their underwear.

***

Sisko called his meeting to order. “All right, people. We’re on the fourth night of Julian’s cure, if I can call it that. Some of you have been pulling double shifts for three days now. How do you think it’s going?”

“Very well,” said Ezri firmly. “Julian has become more trusting, and he’s become more relaxed about intimacy. He hasn’t quite recognized anyone yet, which means the drug is working the way it should, but he’s had a good time with all of us, I think I can say, except for you, Benjamin.”

“Oh, he was wonderful,” Leeta exclaimed, “very charming, but he did ask if he’d met me before.”

“What did you tell him?” Ezri frowned.

“I just said that I didn’t see how we could have met, but that he looked familiar too.”

“Very good,” Ezri said, trying to conceal her surprise. “That’s just the kind of thing we want to say.”

“I have not been involved in the cure so far,” Worf said resentfully, “because I was needed in ops.”

“Are you interested in having a part?” Ezri asked, surprised.

“I would like to help Dr. Bashir,” Worf said seriously. “He risked his life to help Jadzia reach Sto’Vo’Kor.”

“Of course, he did,” said Ezri, “and I have the perfect part for you. You can take over for Captain Sisko. You’re the new bouncer.”

Worf inclined his head. “It will be an honor.”

“Now, then,” Sisko said impatiently, “we need to discuss the project. Where’s Garak?”

“I think they’re still asleep,” Ezri said a bit sheepishly. “They didn’t go to bed until after dawn. Jules keeps late nights.”

“I won’t ask what they were doing all that time.”

“Good,” Ezri said firmly.

“All right. I’d like a progress report from Garak as soon as he comes out. Call me no matter where I am. Does anyone else have anything to add? All right, return to your duties. Old Man, I’d like to speak to you in private.”

Ezri stayed after the others had gone. She and Sisko faced each other across the long table. “I thought a lot about what you said to me yesterday, and I think you’re right—at least partly. I don’t like seeing Bashir with another man. I suppose I wanted to see him end up with you.”

“And?” Ezri encouraged him. “That’s the part I’m right about—now where’s the other part?

“The other part is that I can’t trust Garak. In my experience, he’s ruthless and cold and completely capable of lying in your face and getting away with it, too. I’ve seen him take lives without a qualm, citing ‘necessity.’ How can I trust a man like that with my officer’s life? What if Garak has motives we don’t know about?”

“Everyone always has motives we don’t know about,” Ezri said sagely. “But I know that Garak cares for Bashir, and that he’ll be willing to defend him against you or anyone he thinks will harm him. If you decide to exclude Garak from the simulation, he’ll fight you. He helped Vic and me develop this scenario, and he believes in it. If you....”

“You developed this simulation with Garak and a hologram? Old man, are you out of your mind?”

“The three of us know Julian better than anyone. Vic suggested that we make Julian a gigolo because it had so much in common with his situation. He wasn’t able to refuse the Jem’Hadar, and in the scenario he has memories of being at the beck and call of his customers. But in the simulation he has no actual memories of gang rape or torture. If he can get back his self-esteem as Jules, it might be easier for him to accept what happened to him at the prison camp. I think it’s a brilliant idea, myself.”

Sisko was too quiet, and his eyes glittered dangerously. “What part did Garak contribute?”

“The character he plays, Ellis Gant. I thought up the name, though.” Ezri smiled nervously. “He thought the character should be calm, undemanding, patient, and willing to wait for Julian to come to him. He should show unconditional affection. So far, Garak has lived up to all of that and more.”

“But isn’t Garak overwhelming the whole scenario? Doesn’t he take up too much of Bashir’s time, influence him too much? Let’s try a day without Garak.”

“No, Ben. I don’t recommend it. And Garak won’t agree. I’m sure he’ll refuse to stay away. At least wait and hear what Garak has to say.”

Sisko nodded. “If you say so, Old Man. But I still don’t trust Garak—I’m trusting you not to let Julian down.”

***

Several hours later, Sisko and Ezri met in the same room with Garak, still wearing his tux.

“Excuse me, but I didn’t have time to go home and change,” he said graciously.

“How’d it go last night?” Ezri asked him.

“Very well,” Garak said, with evident pride. “He’s coming to me himself now. And he didn’t have nightmares last night the way he did the other nights. I wonder if it will even take a week to real our goal.”

“Everything you say is good news, Garak, but I have to warn you about something. I had to give Julian an extra dose of the drug yesterday.” She glanced at Sisko before going on. “That might account in part for the good effects you mentioned, especially the lack of nightmares. Today the drug starts tapering off, and I would hesitate to give him any supplemental doses.”

“Why does his lack of nightmares concern you?” Sisko asked.

“It means he’s maxed out on the drug,” Ezri answered promptly. “He should always at least have a vaguely disturbing dream if the drug is at the right level.” She turned to Garak. “Be extra careful tonight. Don’t push him.”

“My dear,” Garak said a bit condescendingly, “haven’t I handled everything well so far? I believe you can trust me.” He looked significantly at Sisko.

“That’s the problem, Mr. Garak,” Sisko said sternly, “I don’t trust you.”

Garak smiled. “That is usually a wise choice,” he said coldly, “but not in this case.”

“I can’t help feeling that you’re here to take advantage of Julian, not to help him.”

“Did it ever occur to you that Julian and I began our liaison when he was still in his right mind? Don’t you believe that Julian welcomes my attentions or that I might be able to help him?”

Sisko shook his head impatiently. “I’m skeptical. The only reason I agreed to this at all was that Ezri seemed to think you could help, but I don’t like the way it’s going.”

“Why,” Garak asked sharply, “because it’s starting to look as if we’re going to have sex?”

“Yes, for one thing,” said Sisko. They stared at each other angrily. “The thought of it seems to frighten him.”

“Perhaps it also frightens you,” Garak said with a knowing smile.

Later when Garak had left and Ezri was walking Sisko back to ops, Sisko murmured something.

“Sorry?” Ezri said. “I didn’t catch that.”

“I said, I don’t like that man,” Sisko said grimly.

“He’s all we’ve got.” Ezri went back to her observation post with foreboding in her heart.

***

Jules awoke feeling better than he had in a long, long time. Gant lay next to him, smiling him a good morning, stroking his own morning erection with a knowing look that made Jules excited, too, excited enough to tease and stroke Gant’s cock with his hands while Gant touched his until they both dissolved into pleasure. After breakfast, he kissed Gant good-by at the door, looking forward to seeing him that night. Making one of his rare forays out of the hotel, Jules took his tux to the cleaners and picked up his spare one, replenished his supplies of coffee and tinned soup, and even bought himself a sandwich to eat outside in the sun, feeding the crumbs to the sparrows on the Boardwalk.

When he returned to the hotel carrying his tux in its zipper bag, he had a vague headache and a sense of unease in the pit of his stomach. Maybe the sandwich hadn’t been such a good idea. He got a newspaper and lay in bed reading it, trying to restore his good spirits, but the closer to opening time it got, the more disturbed he felt. Thinking of Gant’s grey face and strong arms, he felt afraid. By the time he dressed for work, he dreaded seeing the man.

“Get a grip, Jules,” he murmured to the mirror. “It will be all right when you’re actually with him.”

Gant wasn’t there when Jules went to work. Nobody was at that table at all for the first couple of hours. It looked like a slow-starting night. Fridays were like that sometimes. He and Edi stood for a while towards the back of the floor, waiting for the end of Vic’s first set so Jules could find a prospect for the instrumental set that came next.

“So, how’s it going, Jules?” Edi asked, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Jules shuddered. “Rotten, darling,” he said, trying to smile and feeling a cold sweat break out under his shirt. “I’ve got the horrors tonight—don’t know why.”

“Maybe you ought to go lie down. Tell Vic you aren’t feeling well.” She looked into his eyes, trying to get a better idea of what was going on.

“No, it’s just my life, my stupid crummy life. Mr. Gant stayed with me last night.”

“Was it awful?” she asked sympathetically.

“No, it was fantastic. I suppose that’s why I’m so down today. I keep thinking, he’ll leave soon, he’ll forget all about me—what’s the use? And there’s something else, something about the way he looks that reminds me of something.” He stopped abruptly and looked at her. “Edi, do you ever notice that you forget things that you ought to know?”

“Sure.” She smiled reassuringly. “It happens to everyone.”

“Not like this. I danced with two women last night that I swear I had danced with before, but I couldn’t remember them.”

“Jules, honey, I don’t remember every customer who passes through this place. There are too many. How many women do you dance with every night?”

“A lot,” he answered. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Gotta go,” Edi said, seeing a customer peer around for her. “Let me know how you feel later, okay?”

“Yeah.” He went back out on the floor himself and asked a pretty young woman—the daughter of the elderly couple at the table—to dance. She was a good partner and obviously intrigued by him. They danced for nearly an hour, and Jules forgot his troubles while he tried to impress her. It felt good to be looked up to, no doubt about it.

When at last he handed her back to her father, he noticed that Gant was at his old table, just pouring out some champagne. There were two glasses, but no one was sitting there. Jules smiled. How could he have had bad thoughts about Gant? He ought to just enjoy this affair while he could. It was a lot like champagne, he thought, sweet and bubbly and lots of fun. And later you had a headache and swore you’d never drink it again. Yeah, that was love. He ought to know by now.

He approached Gant’s table slowly, sure of his beauty, waiting for the moment when Gant would look up and see him, smile a welcome, offer him a glass. He stopped by Gant’s side. Gant looked up with a smile, and the world spun around him.

They were coming at him again, wanting, always wanting. There was a question in the air, but he’d forgotten it. Grey faces, grey cocks... No one would ever find him. He would stay here forever. He was in hell, being punished for his pride.

When he came to himself, he was slouched in a chair at Gant’s table and someone was forcing brandy between his lips. With an abrupt gesture he shoved them away, spilling the amber liquid on the tablecloth. _Not in my mouth, you bastards!_ he thought.

“Get a grip, pally.” He heard Vic’s voice and opened his eyes. “There’s no reason to call anyone a name like that.”

“What happened?” Jules realized that a small crowd had gathered. Edi was there with her hand on his shoulder. “I’m all right,” he said quickly, trying to get his bearings.

“It seems that you fainted.” Gant’s voice. Jules snapped his head around to see the grey man standing behind him.

“I’m all right, Mr. Gant. Excuse me if I made any trouble.” _What the hell is wrong with me?_ he thought.

“No trouble at all,” Gant said. “I just wonder if you’ve been working too hard.”

“Yeah, Julie, he’s right,” said Vic. “Let me walk with you up to your room.”

“I’ll go with him,” Jules heard Gant and Edi say simultaneously.

They discussed his fate as if he weren’t there, and truly he almost felt elsewhere as he heard their disembodied voices floating over his head. Finally, he felt Gant’s strong arms supporting him as he stood on his shaky legs and headed for the elevators.

“If you need me, call me on the house phone!” Edi called after him.

When they reached the door, Jules realized that they were at Gant’s room, not his own. “No, Mr. Gant,” he said, “take me home. I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“I want to take care of you, Jules,” Gant said kindly, but to Jules’s troubled mind the words sounded ominous. “And call me Ellis, remember?”

“All right,” he agreed, feeling that he wanted to be somewhere else, but too confused to impose his will on Gant.

Gant undressed him and put him in a pair of cotton pajamas that were laughably big around the waist and too short. Jules pulled the drawstring as tight as it would go and then lay down on the bed, propped up by pillows. Gant gave him a cup of tea and he gradually started to feel better.

“Do you know what happened?” Gant asked him after a while.

“Not exactly. When you looked up at me, I....” No, that would never do. He had no right to tell this rich, powerful man that the sight of his face had caused Jules to have an awful vision. He was nobody. It was his job to take it when they dished it out, not to say what he felt. “I just felt queasy,” he finished lamely. “I don’t know.”

Gant nodded understandingly. Ezri had said that the lower medication level might cause a bit of nausea, especially today. He chalked it up to that.

“Would you like to go to sleep?” Jules shook his head no. “Then please excuse me while I change into something more comfortable.”

While Gant was in the bathroom, Jules dozed a little against the pillows, but whenever he started to slip into a deep sleep he saw those grey faces crowding around. He shook his head, trying to stay awake. When Gant came out dressed in pajama bottoms and an open robe that revealed his chest, Jules was glad to see him for a moment, but then the sight of all that grey skin gave him a chill.

“Maybe I _would_ like to go to sleep,” he said miserably. How could things be so different tonight? Why was he lost in his fear like a small boat on the vast ocean? He couldn’t tell Gant, couldn’t displease him. Maybe if he just went to sleep it would all go away in the morning.

Gant turned off all but the small bedside lamp. The rest of the room was in darkness. Removing his robe, Gant slipped into bed and took Jules in his arms. His embrace was at once comforting and frightening. Torn by emotion, Jules closed his eyes and held the strong body holding him. They kissed, and he clung to Gant desperately. A hand closed over his erection.

“I want you,” Jules whispered.

“Are you sure?” Gant asked tenderly.

Jules had been so good at this for so long, so good at saying yes when he meant no, so good at making the customer believe that he had the largest cock, the sexiest body, the most skillful kiss. The customer was always right, even when he was a jerk, even when he was a rapist.

“Yes,” he said, and it came out almost as a sob. Just as well. There were two ways to interpret everything. “Take me, Ellis. I’m ready for you, I’m sure.” Gant had paid for him days ago and Jules had been holding out. He had to do this.

“I knew it would be soon,” Gant said quietly, pride evident in his voice. “I’ve been waiting for you. Are you sure now, Jules? If you’re not, we’ll wait. We can do what we did last night...”

“No, do it now!” Jules was wild with panic, which Gant interpreted as lust.

Gant removed the pajamas he had helped Jules put on. He put the lubrication on himself as Jules rolled over, offering his ass.

 _How many are there this time? Ten? Two dozen? A hundred? I tried to keep count, I tried, but I couldn’t. I even lost track of the days. What’s one more?_ Jules heard the voice in his head as clearly as if someone else were speaking. He covered his face with his hands. Then he heard the marching feet booming through that awful place. He was back in hell.

“Jules?” Gant knelt above him, between his legs, poised to enter him. He was naked, his magnificent erection glistening from the lubricant. “Jules, are you all right?”

The voice, when it came, seemed to originate from somewhere so deep in Jules it felt like thunder rolling through him, like an earthquake in his soul.

“No! Get off me, you fucker!”

Gant retreated, kneeling next to him on the bed. “Jules, I’m sorry. I thought you said you wanted it.”

“Well I don’t want it. Why didn’t you know that? You should have known!” He rose awkwardly and swung his joined fists at Gant, striking him full in the face and knocking him off the bed. Gant landed hard on his back, tasting blood. Jules flew after him, punching wildly as Gant scrambled backwards, covering his face with both hands.

“Jules, no!” he cried in disbelief.

“They were like you. Just like you!” Jules grabbed Gant’s hands away from his face and spat in his eyes. Gant couched in the corner with his hands over his head, and felt Jules hit him hard again and again. “Grey faces, grey cocks! Just like you!”

Finally the storm subsided, and Jules lay exhausted on the carpet, sobbing and murmuring curses. Slowly, Gant crawled to the bathroom, went inside and locked the door before turning on the light. His own image in the mirror startled him. His face was smeared with blood from his battered nose and split lip. One eye was starting to swell purple. His back hurt badly where he had let Jules beat him. “And you deserved every blow, you selfish old fool,” he muttered. Opening the medicine cabinet, he dumped everything into the sink before removing the shelves and sliding open the backing. Inside he found the preset hypospray that Ezri had left him. Taking it, he cautiously opened the door and looked out. Jules was asleep on the floor, muttering to himself, his body twitching. The painful expression on his face was enough to make Gant cringe. Moving swiftly, he pressed the hypospray to Jules’s neck and gratefully watched his muscles relax before picking up Jules’s limp body and putting him to bed. Donning his robe, Gant went back into the bathroom and pushed the panic button.

Ezri met him in the corridor, dressed in her uniform, hands on her hips.

“This is bad,” she said.

“I know. I was stupid. I believed him when he said he wanted it.”

She sighed and rubbed a hand through her hair. “How close did you get?”

“You mean, did I actually—”

“Yes.”

“No. He stopped me. Luckily.” Garak looked back at the closed door to his room as if he could see through it. “Is someone watching him?” Ezri nodded. “Can you increase his dosage of the drug?”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t dare give him any more of the drug considering how hard he came down today. We absolutely have to taper off in the next two days. Maybe he’ll stabilize tomorrow. Things might get better.”

Garak shook his head. “I wonder if he’ll come near me again. Should I even be here when he wakes up? I was so sure of myself, so sure he’d come around just by being with me.”

“Look, Garak, just get dressed. In eight hours or so, sit in the armchair and wait for him to wake up. Then decide what to do when you see what kind of mood he’s in. When he sees what he did to your face, he’ll probably feel like hell.”

“Just what he needs—more guilt, more anxiety,” said Garak.

Ezri sighed and patted his arm. “I have to talk to Sisko. Why don’t you come to the Infirmary?”

“No, I’ll clean myself up here. Cuts and bruises don’t heal magically in his world. And besides, I don’t want to leave him.”

Touched by his unhappiness, Ezri threw him a sympathetic look. “Sisko might want to talk to you tonight. He’s not going to be happy.”

“Do you think I’m happy?” Garak asked, and walked back into his room.

***

“Don’t say ‘I told you so,’” Ezri said quickly.

“Damn, it, Old Man, I _did_ tell you so. And reminding you of that is likely to be the only pleasure I get out of this. Damn!”

“Garak made an honest mistake. Julian wasn’t telling him the truth.”

“But Garak could have realized that if he hadn’t been so focused on what he wanted.”

“Actually, I think he was just overconfident. He was sure all along that Jules would come to him, and it did seem to be working for a while.”

“For a while.” Sisko banged his hand down on the desk, making Ezri jump. “Is it over? Is there anything else we can do?”

“We don’t know how bad it is yet, Benjamin, but it might have set us back. If Julian stabilizes a bit today, and if he doesn’t avoid thinking about what happened, then we still might have a chance.”

“If and if,” Sisko said. “And if not, then what?”

“Then we hope that the treatment at least brought him far enough out of himself to make some other kind of treatment possible.”

Sisko stood. “I want to talk to Garak.”

It was still hours before Julian could be expected to wake up. Ezri summoned Garak out into the corridor where Sisko stood waiting, hands on hips.

“Mr. Garak, I warned you,” Sisko began.

“No one could have predicted how this would go,” Garak said reasonably. “I made an error of judgment, which, believe me, I won’t repeat.”

“No, you won’t,” Sisko said coldly. “Lieutenant, take Mr. Garak to the brig. If he won’t go quietly call Security to help you.”

“Benjamin!” Ezri said in shock. “He has to be there when Julian wakes up.”

“No, you’ll be there when he wakes up. You’ll say that Gant didn’t want to upset him any further so he left.”

“No. This is absolutely the wrong thing to do.”

“It seems right to me.” Sisko folded his arms and stood firm.

“And to me, too,” said Garak.

Sisko stared at him. “You agree with me?”

“Absolutely. I’ve done him enough harm for one night. If he’s not frightened to see me in the morning, something’s more wrong with him than we thought.”

“So, you’re ready to walk out of the scenario.”

“No,” Garak said. “I want him to be told that I left for a while to give him a chance to recover. Later, I’ll be in my room waiting for him if he wants me. If he doesn’t come, I won’t seek him out. If he comes, well, things will be different. Please tell him how sorry I am, and that he didn’t really hurt me.”

“I think I can live with that,” said Sisko slowly.

“All right,” said Ezri, “I’ll be there when he wakes up. I’ll tell him what you said.”

Garak left the holosuite and headed down the Promenade toward the habitat ring. Ezri and Sisko walked more slowly behind him.

“He feels terrible about what happened, Benjamin.”

“I can see that. But feeling terrible doesn’t fix things.”

Ezri looked down for a moment, preparing herself, and then lit into him. “You are so judgmental. You always have been. It’s as if you’ve never made a mistake.”

“Of course I have, Old Man. You know that.”

“You bet I do,” she said. “I’ve seen you screw up royally, to use one of Curzon’s favorite expressions, and you beat yourself up after it, too, just like he does. But for some reason, that makes you ten times harder on anyone else who makes one.”

“I just think people should take responsibility for their....”

“Bullshit!” she said explosively. “As I recall, it was your mistake that forced me to give Julian an extra dose of the drug, and that led to what happened tonight. You just don’t give anyone an inch. Imagine, threatening to put Garak in the brig! Don’t you think he’s taking responsibility?”

“All right, Old Man, I suppose I do. He rubbed a hand lightly across his head. “You’re right, I suppose. I’m just worried about Julian.” He looked back up the Promenade towards Quark’s. “Don’t you need to be getting back there?”

She wagged her finger at him and turned to go. “That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. We’ll discuss it later.”

***

Jules moaned and rolled over, then sat bolt upright in bed. “Gant,” he said.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. It’s nearly eleven. Are you feeling better?”

Jules knew by the voice that it was Edi, but his eyes were still too bleary to see her. “Yeah, I guess. Where’s Gant?”

“He figured you wouldn’t want to see him this morning. He’s left for a while.” At Jules’s stricken look she added, “But he’s coming back later after you’ve left his room.”

“It all seems like a bad dream,” Jules said thickly. “Did I actually hit him?”

“Yes. He isn’t angry at you. He thinks he deserved it.”

“Is he all right?”

“Yes.”

“Come on, Edi, tell me what I did.”

“He has a split lip, a bloody nose, and a black eye. He’ll live.”

Julian groaned and lay back against the pillows. “Whenever I have something good going I screw it up,” he said morosely. “I told him it was all right and then I turned on him. What’s the matter with me?”

“Maybe you aren’t sure what you want,” Edi said carefully. “Maybe he went too fast for you.”

Jules laughed painfully. “Too fast? Most of my encounters are over in an hour, if that. I’ve been seeing Gant for four days and he hasn’t had me yet. Can you blame him for being impatient?”

“Jules, he’s not only one who matters. How you feel about it is just as important. Maybe more so.” Edi fiddled with the hot plate, trying to figure out how long it actually would take to boil the coffeepot full of water she’d put on a while before. “Gant didn’t mean to scare you. He cares about you, Jules.”

“Why is that, exactly?” Jules asked irritably. He raised himself on one elbow and looked at her. “This thing started out like all the others: ‘Come to my room so we can talk, and by the way, I’ll pay you handsomely.’ But when I get to his room all he wants to do is dance with me. He wants to _dance_ with me, can you imagine? And before I know it, I’m kissing him, only _I_ started it.”

“Sounds as if you like him,” Edi said with a knowing smile.

“Like him? I seem to be obsessed with him. I guess it’s love, I don’t know. Just the little we did was...well, I don’t want to go into detail, but it was incredible. I can’t stay away from him.”

“Well, then, what’s wrong?” The coffeepot was making little slapping sounds that Edi interpreted to mean that coffee was immanent. She got some cups off the shelf.

“Ah, yes, the question I’ve been asking myself all week.” Jules moved to the end of the bed and sat up, stretching and rubbing his eyes. “Coffee smells good. I slept like the dead. Anyway, sometimes when I’m with him, I have these thoughts.... Oh, never mind, it’s too stupid.”

Edi faced him, hands on hips. “There you go again! Why do you think it’s so stupid to have feelings? If you don’t talk about it you’ll never figure it out, you know.”

Jules smiled wanly at her. “You’re right. It’s just that it’s so painful to talk about, I guess. Sometimes I look at his face and it’s as if I’m in a nightmare. There are all these men with grey faces coming after me, doing terrible things. Raping me.” He shuddered and pulled the blankets around his shoulders. Edi handed him a steaming cup of coffee.

“Do they look like Gant?” she asked carefully.

“A little. It’s just that they’re doing those things to me against my will—things that Gant wants to do, only he’s not trying to hurt me. I can’t explain it.” He sipped from his cup and then blew into it.

“Well, you don’t have to see him any more if you don’t want to,” she said firmly, sitting down next to Jules. “He doesn’t want to force himself on you. When he’s in the hotel, he won’t go to the club any more. He’ll just stay in his room so you can find him if you want to.”

Jules took a gulp of coffee. “I don’t deserve him, Edi.”

“Nonsense,” she said sternly. “Did you ever think that maybe he doesn’t deserve you?”

Jules laughed ruefully. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we just deserved each other?”

***

Jules walked out onto the floor when things were in full swing. He took his time, surveying the crowd before deciding where to look for his first prospect. He didn’t have to be afraid to look at Gant’s table. Edi had said he wouldn’t be there, and he wasn’t.

Vic came up to him and patted him on the shoulder. “I’m glad to see you looking good again, pally. You gave us quite a scare last night. If you feel bad tonight, you be sure to go home, okay?”

“Sure, Vic.” He grinned, looking almost like his old self. But he didn’t feel like his old self. Somewhere close to the surface was a raw wound, a spot that he kept hitting, no matter how careful he tried to be. From deep underground where he had buried all the horror and pain, things were bubbling up towards the surface, ready to release their poison.

Jules danced often, drank a bit. A martini to start, half a glass of champagne, and finally a ginger ale instead of a highball when he was busy charming some drunken high rollers at the end of the evening. He wasn’t in the mood tonight. Gant wasn’t here, and Jules had nothing to look forward to, no reason to lose control. He felt heavy, leaden, hopeless. Those blue eyes, that voice, the touch that drove him crazy, the kisses.... He felt exiled, and he had closed the doors to paradise himself.

He had seen the blood on Gant’s face, the look of horrified surprise. His own knuckles were skinned and blue. Could he bear to see reproach written on that face in cuts and bruises that his own hands had inflicted?

When the evening ended, he hung around, talking to Vic. The new bouncer was there. He was a fierce-looking man with a lowering brow who looked good in a tux, but somehow Jules found him less threatening than Henry. When Wallace looked at Jules, he seemed to be encouraging him, approving of who he was. That was unusual in a bouncer, who usually didn’t like gigolos because they sometimes caused the customers to fight over them in order to raise their prices. Jules was the only resident gigolo at Vic’s right now, and he didn’t resort to such tactics. Henry had never seemed to like him anyway. Vic introduced them and Wallace shook his hand firmly. Jules had never felt less sexual interest from any man in his life. Feeling the way he did tonight, that was welcome.

“If any customers trouble you, please tell me. I will take care of them,” Wallace said seriously.

“Why, thank you, Wallace. I appreciate that.” He did, too. He just wished it would make him feel better. Nothing seemed to take away the thought of Gant’s bruised face or the memory of the expressionless grey faces of the ones who had tormented him in his dreams.

He went upstairs to his room reluctantly, imagining that Gant would be there waiting for him, but he found his room empty. He knew where Gant was—three floors below in his own room, lying in his own bed. Was it as empty as Jules’s? Wondering that made his seem emptier than ever, and Gant seem even more unreachable.

He took off his tux and put it carefully away and put on the slacks and shirt he had worn to run his errands the day before. He sat heavily in his armchair and looked at the phonograph still sitting on the table. That day seemed so long ago, as if a week had passed instead of two days. In his imagination he conjured up another lover for Gant, a thin, young man like himself. “Where did you get those bruises?” asked the wraith, and kissed each one gently before Gant, on fire with lust, slid inside him and finally slaked the desire that Jules had aroused.

He knew he was just making himself miserable. As long as he sat here alone it would just get worse. Standing up suddenly, he picked up the house phone from the bedside table and dialed Edi’s number.

“Edi, love,” he said when she answered, “can I come up?”

“Okay, Jules. Just give me a minute to get decent, will you? I was just getting undressed.”

Startled, Ezri ordered the computer to open a quick passage from her observation post directly to her room. Once there, she undressed hurriedly and put on an old-fashioned nightgown and robe with lace at the neck. No sooner had she stuffed her uniform under the bed than Jules knocked at the door. She opened it quickly.

He stood swaying on her doormat looking sorry and pale. His eyes were large and shaded from lack of sleep. He fell into her arms.

“Edi, darling, you don’t mind, do you?” His voice was rough with need. “I just can’t be alone tonight.” His arms clutched her with the strength born of urgency, and she knew she couldn’t refuse, couldn’t hesitate, could only welcome him into her bed.

***

“So,” Sisko said with satisfaction, “he went to you last night? That’s the way I thought things would turn out.”

When Ezri looked up her face was drawn and anxious. “I don’t really see it as a good sign, Benjamin.”

“Why not?” He was honestly surprised.

“I think it means he can’t face things. It’s too hard. If he turns away from Garak, he turns away from coming to terms with what happened to him, it’s as simple as that.” She sighed. “At least he’s gotten somewhere. When this is over he’ll probably be alert enough to respond to some other approach. That might be about all we can hope for now.”

“Does Garak know where he spent the night?”

Ezri grimaced. “I was just going to tell him. I think it’s only right.”

Sisko shook his head. “I know he tried. He’ll be disappointed.”

“That’s the least of it. He doesn’t say much, but if Julian doesn’t make it, I think I’ll have another patient on my hands.”

Sisko looked at her in surprise. “He cares that much.”

“Julian is all he has.”

***

At the very moment he was getting his last dose of the memory-suppressant drug, Jules felt better. It was almost as if he’d never met Gant. Almost. He’d had a bad dream the night before in Edi’s bed, but the fear had seemed more distanced from him, almost as if he were looking into someone else’s nightmare. After sleeping nearly the whole day, he dressed with care and went down to work feeling jaunty and light on his feet the way he used to.

He noticed some of the customers he’d talked to in the last week, the Olds and that strange couple, Ron and Lilla, accompanied now by a younger version of Ron. O’Malley was at their table, too, and so was that other large-eared gentleman Jules hadn’t been introduced to, whose name turned out to be Quincey. They all apparently knew each other, and they beckoned Jules over eagerly.

“Our son Ned would like to learn to dance,” Lilla explained charmingly. “Maybe you could demonstrate with me or Nell and he could watch, okay?”

Jules was game, remembering the Olds’s generous tip. He sat with them first and drank a glass of champagne while waiting for the band to start their first set. “So, your name is Ned,” he said conversationally. “Is that short for Edward?”

“It’s short for Nog,” said Ron.

“Pardon me?” Jules wasn’t sure he had heard right.

“That’s his nickname,” Lilla said nervously.

“Like eggnog, you know?” added O’Malley helpfully.

“I see,” said Jules, who didn’t. “So, have you danced before, Ned?” he asked, hoping that he really did detect some intelligence in the youngster’s eyes.

“A little,” he said, “when I was away at school. But I never was very good, and then I, uh...hurt my leg, so I didn’t dance at all for a while. I’d like to get better.”

Jules outlined for him the steps of a basic foxtrot. No use trying anything too complicated here. Ned got up and tried to imitate him. He was a bit clumsy, but he could follow directions. Jules had hope that he could have the boy dancing a few different steps by the end of the night.

Jules stood up with Mrs. Olds and danced the foxtrot. Again he had that _deja vu_ feeling about her, the way he had the first time he’d danced with Lilla, and with Gant. Gant.... Sitting upstairs in his room while Jules danced for tips down here and wished Gant was in his arms instead of Mrs. Olds. Life was damn stupid sometimes. Jules felt a wave of despair pass through him. He couldn’t stand to be without Ellis, but when they were together, he was so afraid.

Mrs. Olds, or Nell, as Lilla had called her, was still a great partner. He tried to concentrate on that, on holding her in his arms and doing the steps clearly enough for Ned to catch on. The second number was a tango, and he swept Mrs. Olds away to the middle of the dance floor, hoping to drum up some prospects for later by showing off a little. A crowd gathered around them, applauding then they were through. This time, although Jules tossed Mrs. Olds over his arm at the end, he didn’t kiss her.

“Wow!” Ned said excitedly when they got back to the table. “Can you teach me to do that?”

Jules laughed. “Not tonight. Let’s stick to the foxtrot for now, shall we?”

He got Ned to stand up with Lilla, but realized soon that she wasn’t a very good dancer and needed a strong partner to follow. She and Ned were moving at cross-purposes at every step. Jules tactfully suggested that Mrs. Olds could take a turn, and Lilla readily agreed. That worked a bit better. Next Jules took a turn with Ned, letting him lead. The boy was catching on quickly. When they returned to the table and Jules tried to encourage Ned, O’Malley was laughing at the discrepancy in their heights, making the youngster blush.

“Why don’t you show Mr. O’Malley how to dance?” Ned suggested spitefully.

Jules decided to even the odds. Somehow he hated seeing O’Malley get a laugh at poor, earnest Ned’s expense. He stood and held his hand out to O’Malley.

“Come on, Mr. O’Malley. Let’s dance.”

“I already know how.” Now O’Malley was blushing. The table exploded in laughter.

“Go ahead! Go ahead!” both women encouraged him.

“I bet you can’t keep up with Jules,” said Mr. Olds.

“How much do you want to bet?” asked Quincey suggestively.

Olds ignored him. “Go ahead, Milo, or I’ll dance with you myself.”

“That would be a pretty sight,” mocked Quincey.

“I’ll let you lead,” said Jules, taking O’Malley by the hand. “Come on.” And then they were out on the floor, just the two of them. O’Malley did indeed know the foxtrot, but his nervousness was making him clumsy.

“You have to hold me closer,” Jules suggested. “Put your arm around my waist a little tighter. Or do you think I’m going to contaminate you?”

“Uh...what?” O’Malley held him a little closer. Jules could smell his sweat.

“I mean because I go with men. Because I prostitute myself. You probably think I’m disgusting.” Jules leaned forward and spoke wrathfully into O’Malley’s ear. “Are you afraid everyone will think you’re my customer? I could kiss you the way I kissed Mr. Gant. Do you want me to kiss you out here in front of everybody, Mr. O’Malley?”

“No,” O’Malley said, quickly, “but I don’t despise you, really, I don’t. It doesn’t bother me that you are the way you are.” He seemed inept but sincere, desperate to make himself believed.

“I’m just trying to make a living,” Jules said. “This is the only way I know how.”

“Look, Jules, I like you, but I’m just not wired that way.” The sweat gathered on O’Malley’s brow threatened to drip into his eyes.

Jules laughed. “You mean to tell me you feel nothing dancing with me in your arms? That’s all right. I don’t feel anything for you either.”

O’Malley laughed in relief. “So we can just be friends then.”

Jules laughed too. “Sure,” he said, “a gigolo and a—what did you say you did?”

“I’m an engineer,” said O’Malley.

“Of course you are,” said Jules. “So I can call you Milo, then, friend?”

O’Malley agreed, apparently oblivious to Jules’s sardonic tone. The music ended and they returned to the table. O’Malley took up a white linen napkin and wiped his brow.

Jules stayed with them a while longer before making a few more circuits of the floor. At the end of the evening, his jacket pocket bulged with tips. It was one of the best evenings he had ever had. He ought to have been happy, but instead his thoughts turned once again to Gant, sitting six floors above him but as unreachable as if he had been on Mars. Jules knew he couldn’t go to Gant’s room. He’d be afraid Gant wouldn’t be there, afraid he would, afraid he’d be with some one else. “I couldn’t wait for you any more,” he’d say. “I found another gigolo. You’re a dime a dozen.”

Jules got a ginger ale and rye from the bar and sat down to hear Vic’s last few songs. He had ended up getting a little tipsy again tonight, not that it would matter to anybody. He’d be sleeping it off alone this time. Last night with Edi had been nice, but he didn’t want to make a habit of it. He’d had the feeling she was just going along with things to comfort him. She didn’t really feel anything but friendship for him, and, truth be told, that’s all he felt for her. God, it was amazing how depressed he got the moment no one was around to distract him. He drank the last of his drink and let the ice cubes clunk back against the bottom of the glass. Vic was singing:

     _What’ll I do_

_When you_

_Are far away_

_And I am blue_

_What’ll I do?_

_What’ll I do_

_When I am_

_Wondering who_

_Is kissing you_

_What’ll I do?_

Damn, he was going to lose Gant, never see him again. He wondered if Gant were even still in the hotel. But why bother to find out? It was too late. Gant must hate him now.

Last song. It was “Under a Blanket of Blue.” Jules almost groaned aloud.

_A summer night_

_Enthralling me so,_

_The night would be tragic_

_If you weren’t here_

_To share it, my dear._

His body ached for Gant. He wanted to look into those fascinating eyes, feel those arms around him, those lips... He looked at his bruised knuckles. Why did his fear make him destroy the thing he loved? There was no answer but to stay clear of Gant, for both their sakes.

When Wallace had shown out the last customer and was locking up the doors, Jules went over his tips with Vic and gave him his cut while Vic counted out his salary. Jules pocketed it and started to leave, then turned.

“Vic?”

“Yeah, pally?”

“You know that high roller, the one you wanted me to keep happy?”

“You mean Gant?” Vic asked without looking up.

“Yes. Did he check out?”

“He’s still here. He checks out day after tomorrow. I saw him go up to his room just before we opened.”

 _So soon!_ The thought gave Jules a pang of unbearable sadness. He turned away. There would be no chance of seeing him tomorrow anyway. Monday was the club’s day to close. Jules would be alone all day and all night. The next night Gant would be long gone and Jules would take some stranger into his bed for money.

“Good night, Jules,” came Vic’s voice.

“Good night.” His voice was choked with emotion over this grey stranger—but why?

***

Ezri yawned and stretched. She hadn’t been getting enough sleep. By the time she got to bed every morning, her mind was whirling, wondering what would go wrong next. And being a waitress was hard physical labor. Her feet were always killing her from those stupid high-heeled shoes she had to wear. The night shift had been uneventful so far, thank goodness. Julian seemed to be sleeping peacefully, alone in his own bed. She hadn’t even bothered to put on her nightgown and robe. If he decided to come to her, he’d call on the house phone first. She didn’t feel like changing clothes twice.

Yawning again, she split the screen and looked in on Garak. Wearing street clothes, he was sitting on his sofa with his head resting against the back and his eyes closed. A slow song played in the background. She doubted he was asleep.

She cleared the screen and looked at Julian again. He turned over, then back again and sat bolt upright. _Another nightmare_ , she thought. He lay down and she breathed a sigh of relief.

_Marching boots, echoing in the cold, rank air. Those grey bastards seemed to thrive on hardship. They were made of nothing but bone and sinew. It appeared that their uniforms were a part of them. They pissed in the corners, fouling any refuge a prisoner could find. And if you didn’t cringe enough when they walked by, they pulled out their dicks and forced them down your throat. When one did it, the rest of them gathered around like flies and fucked you, fucked you, fucked you...._

Jules sat up in bed. Why were these grey soldiers marching through his head? He didn’t want to think about them, didn’t want to remember. Remember? Was it true, then, or some sick fantasy his mind had constructed out of the despair of his pathetic life? When the biggest thrill of his evening had been threatening Milo O’Malley with a kiss. He lay down and held his head, trying to still the echoes.

Oh, what a common, pitiful thing he had become! When he was with Gant, he’d suddenly felt as if he were worth something, but Gant was like all the rest. No, he wasn’t! And he had smashed up Gant’s face pretty bad, beaten up the one who cared for him most in the world, and Gant, who could have crushed Jules’s throat with one hand, Gant had let him do it.

Jules sat up again. It seemed that shadowy figures moved towards him. Panicking, he reached for the bedside lamp and nearly sent it crashing to the floor. The room sprang into view, shabby and unkempt, but empty. Across from the bed, the windowpane reflected the harsh lamplight. He had forgotten to close the curtains.

Turning out the lamp and throwing back the covers, Jules rose. He was suddenly drawn to that grey square of void. Resting his hands on the pane, he looked outside. Atlantic City lay spread out before him, the lights softened by fog. A few blocks away, he could see the white breakers run to shore one by one and disappear. He unlocked the window and struggled with the sash. This was an old hotel. Maybe the window was painted shut. It gave a little and he bent and put his face against the opening to breathe in the cool, salty air. Nothing moved out there but the ocean, whispering invitingly. Just over the horizon, the sky was beginning to glow a faint pink. He wanted to be out there in the quiet, in the beautiful, cool morning. Nine stories down. With both arms, he pushed up on the window and it started to give.

“Damn,” Ezri muttered, suddenly wide awake, “what’s he doing?” She tapped the control panel. “Ezri to Garak.”

“Yes?” Garak sounded tense. He’d been waiting for days now, powerless.

“Go to Julian’s room right now,” she said urgently. “I’m not sure what he’s up to, but he’s trying to open the window for some reason.”

“You think he means to jump?” Garak sounded appalled. “If he sees my face, won’t that drive him out faster?”

“I’m still in my uniform,” she said, trying to struggle out of it. “Get there now. If he jumps he won’t get hurt but it will destroy the whole illusion. Don’t go near him—just talk to him from the doorway.”

“What shall I....”

“Get there!” she whispered urgently. “I’ve opened a quick passage for you. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Jules had the window open wide and was looking down at the street as if mesmerized, one foot poised on the sill. He turned his head when he heard his door open.

“Jules. Oh, dear Jules. Please don’t do that.” Ezri had never heard Garak’s voice sound so pained, so full of naked emotion.

“Why not?” Jules said softy. “I drove you away from me. You hate me now.”

“But I don’t, you see. I wanted to give you a chance to come to me when you were ready. I didn’t want you to think I hated you. Jules, please. Come here and talk to me.” Gant took another step inside the door.

Removing his foot from the sill, Jules faced him now. “Stop there. I don’t want you to touch me. You’ve been sleeping with someone else. Some who gave you what you wanted all the time.”

“No. There’s no one else. I want you.”

Jules closed his eyes. “They march through my mind,” he said. “I want it to be quiet. I don’t want you to want me!” he shouted suddenly. “Don’t come in here. Get down on the floor where you can’t get to me.”

Gant dropped to his knees. “Jules, I beg you,” he began, “don’t.”

“I’m going,” said Jules, turning back to the window.

“If you go, I’ll follow you all the way down.”

“You mean you’ll jump after me? I don’t believe you.”

“Jules, if you die, I have nothing left. Until I met you my life was empty. No friends, no family. Nothing but my business.”

“You’re rich,” Jules sneered. “You’re leaving tomorrow and then you’ll look back at this and laugh at me.”

“I have nothing but you,” Gant said, holding out his empty hands.

In the corridor outside, Ezri and Worf stood stock still, listening, ready to go in. Worf’s fuchsia pajama top was buttoned crosswise.

“I don’t care about anything but you,” continued Gant. “I don’t care about your past because I have a past of my own. Maybe it will turn out that you’ll be ashamed of me, did you ever think of that? If I thought you’d accept, I’d ask you to go away with me. If you decide you never want to see me again, I’ll leave. If you want to wait and see, I’ll be here whenever you want me and gone whenever you don’t. If you jump out that window, I will too.”

“I don’t want you to die.” Jules squatted down in front of the window, holding himself and shivering miserably.

“Then close the window,” said Gant with a smile. “It’s cold out there.”

Watching her tricorder, Ezri saw Julian close the window and lock it. She looked at Worf and rolled her eyes in relief, signaling him to return to the observation post. Once they were there, she made a few calls and rousted some sleepy people out of bed. “Time for some desperate measures,” she murmured to Worf. “It’s all or nothing now.”

Jules walked slowly up to Gant, who was still on his knees. “Look what I did to you,” he said softly. “Look at your face.” With a gentle finger he traced the swollen outline of one eye.

“It doesn’t matter. I deserved it.”

“No one ever deserves to be hurt,” Jules said emotionally. “I promised...I promised to do no harm,” he said vaguely. “I remember something. I remember that you were hurt, and I passed my hand over the wound and it was gone.”

“I pushed you too fast, Jules. I tried to make you do something you didn’t want.”

“No, it wasn’t you, it was the others. I was hitting at them through you.” He held Gant’s head against his belly and stroked the silky hair. “Was I really there, in that terrible place?” Gant hesitated. Ezri had said not to lie to him, not to deny true things when they came back, but somehow it seemed so cruel to make that evil dream into a reality. “Tell me, please!”

“Yes,” Gant said, “you were there.”

“I’m still there,” Jules said, dropping to his knees. Gant held him tight, whispering hopeful things about the life they could have together.

“Jules?” Edi’s voice came from the corridor. “Is everything all right?” As Jules and Gant stood to face the half-open door it opened all the way to reveal a small crowd of people, all in nightdress or casual clothes, carrying dishes of food.

“Edi,” said Jules, a little dazed, “what’s this?”

“We all noticed you seemed a little down last night, so we thought you could use a little cheering up. We decided to plan a breakfast party for you. Do you mind?”

“No, I...I’m just surprised, that’s all.” Looking bewildered, he saw Mr. and Mrs. Olds, Milo, Ron, Lilla and Ned, Mr. Quincey, and even Wallace file into his room. They arranged everything quickly, moving the phonograph to a small table in the corner and spreading the food out over his breakfast table, dwarfing it with what they had brought: a platter of scrambled eggs with sausages, a large stack of toast, and a basket of sweet rolls. Wallace carried a stack of extra plates and forks in one hand and a bottle in the other. Edi put on the coffee pot.

“Is that blood wine?” she asked Wallace with an amused smile, “at this hour of the morning?”

“Any time is a good time to drink blood wine,” he answered solemnly.

Julian looked around in disbelief. “Why? Why would you all do this for me?” Jules stammered, staring almost wildly as if frightened by the sight of so many people in his room.

Nell Olds put her arm around his shoulders. “You’re important to everyone here in a different way, Jules,” she said. “You’ve helped every one of us.”

“No, no, I haven’t done anything,” he whispered. “I’m nothing.”

“She’s right, Jules,” said Milo. “You’ve done something for all of us.”

Wanting to calm Jules down a bit, Edi coaxed him to sit in a chair and handed him a cup of coffee. Gant stood off to one side, watching all this activity with a bemused expression. Whenever Jules looked at him, he smiled and nodded encouragingly. At first he had wanted to cure Jules all by himself, but after spending the last few nights feeling that he’d failed by reaching too far, he was glad of the help.

A tall figure appeared in the doorway, carrying a covered dish. It was Henry. Everyone stared. Jules could feel that he wasn’t the only one intimidated by the former bouncer.

“May I come in?” Henry asked quietly

“Of course,” said Jules, rising and stepping forward automatically to take the dish. He inhaled a delicious scent. “It’s gumbo, isn’t it?” he said hesitantly.

“For breakfast?” Milo asked indignantly.

“Yes,” said Henry, who was suddenly smiling broadly. “You remembered.”

Jules smiled back, amazed at how different Henry suddenly seemed. “Thank you,” he said simply. Edi took the dish from his hands and put it on the table.

“I wanted to apologize to you,” said Henry, “and to Mr. Gant.”

Jules looked confused. “What for?”

“Apology accepted,” said Gant, nodding with evident satisfaction. Jules wondered what had passed between them. He had never even seen them speak. Everyone was silent for a moment.

“Hey,” said Vic, appearing in the doorway, “this party is dullsville. Let’s spice things up a little.” Vic moved through the room greeting everyone by name while charting a quick course to the phonograph. “Here we go,” he said, “let’s put on a platter.”

It was Duke Ellington. With the music flowing through him, Jules suddenly felt all right again. It was strange how volatile he’d become lately, feeling like dying one minute and like dancing the next, but he took Nell by both hands and started to dance, holding her close and spinning her away. They danced through that song and two more before Nell dropped into a chair laughing breathlessly and said, “No more for me! Where do you get your energy?”

Everyone applauded. Jules shrugged and smiled, though he felt a little embarrassed. Vic slid an arm around his shoulders. “You keep asking what everybody sees in you, don’t you, pally? You don’t get it.”

“I’m nobody,” Jules said, really embarrassed now, but moved at the same time. “Most of you have paid me to be with you. I’m just an empty shell. I’m whoever you want me to be.”

“No, Julie, you’re much more than that. No matter what’s been done to you, you’re still one cool cat, you know?”

Jules grinned. “I hope that means something good,” he said.

“It does, pally, it does. You’re the life of the party. You see what people are feeling and you make them feel better. You know how to see what’s going on inside. The only problem with that is that sometimes you give us too much. You don’t worry about yourself enough.”

“You’re right,” Jules said, startled. “You know, Vic, you’re absolutely right.” Vic patted him on the back and went to change the record.

Lilla served out dishes of hot eggs and toast. Gant declined his plate politely, and Jules accepted a sweet roll to have with his coffee. As they talked and laughed, Gant saw Jules relax and take part in the conversations around him, contributing more than his share. All the time, Gant knew that Jules was conscious of him, throwing him an occasional glance or smile although they didn’t speak.

“Jules, when can you teach me the tango?” Ned exclaimed suddenly. The conversation stopped. Lilla smiled indulgently and patted him on the shoulder.

“Any time you’re ready,” Jules said, smiling at him. “Once you’ve mastered the steps I taught you last night it shouldn’t be all that hard. You’ve learned how to use your implant so well that...” Jules rubbed his forehead uneasily. “How do I know about that?” he asked, confused.

Edi squatted down by his chair. “Jules, have you felt as if you’re having someone else’s memories lately?”

“Yes,” he said, amazed, “and sometimes there are things I just can’t remember.”

“It’s all right,” she said, looking into his face. “Soon you’ll have it all straightened out.”

“But what does it mean?” He suddenly looked very tired.

“I think you’ll figure that out for yourself soon. Don’t try to fight it. Just let the memories come.”

“All right,” he said uncertainly. “But I’m still not sure what you mean, exactly.”

“That’s okay. You will. Now....” She stood and addressed everyone. “The sun has been up for hours, and I think it’s time we cleared this mess and let Jules have a little rest. If you need any of us, just call. Is there anyone you’d like to have stay with you?”

“Ellis,” he said softly.

It was noon by the time the revelers left. Jules slept most of the afternoon as he often did on Mondays, rising when the sun was setting into a haze of fog that blurred the outlines of the buildings down by the water. He showered while Gant heated some soup on the hot plate.

He came out of the bathroom rubbing his wet, tousled hair with a towel. He was wrapped in an old, dark blue robe. Gant realized with a shock that it was the robe Julian had always had, back in his other life. He looked so much like Julian, so like his old, normal self, that Garak wanted to take the towel out of his hands and kiss him and coax him into bed, but Gant stopped him.

“Your friends put on quite a breakfast for you,” he said conversationally.

As if paralyzed by the sound of Gant’s voice, Jules froze in the middle of the room with the towel still in his hands. “Why am I here?” he asked, looking around the room as if he’d never seen it before. “Do I really belong here?”

“Where do you think you belong?” asked Gant, cocking his head to one side.

“Why would I ask if I knew the answer?” Jules asked angrily. “Damn it, I don’t even know you. Why do I care for you?”

“I don’t know,” Gant answered simply, abandoning his idea of going to stand near Jules. He turned off the hotplate and sat on the couch instead. Jules stood uncertainly in the middle of the room for a moment before pulling a pair of loose pants and an old undershirt from the dresser. He went into the bathroom to dress, closing the door. When he emerged, Jules hesitated, and then sat tentatively at the other end of the sofa from Gant.

“Why do I keep thinking about you?” Jules said. “Why do I keep wanting to be in your arms?”

“You’re not afraid?” asked Gant.

“Of course I’m afraid.” Jules looked down at his hands.

“Jules, have I ever hurt you?”

“I don’t know. That’s not the point.”

“Yes it is. I’ve never hurt you and I never will.”

Jules looked up, meeting his eyes. “I suppose I know that,” he said, “but someone did.”

They exchanged a long look, and in a moment Jules had thrown himself into Gant’s arms. They kissed deeply, touching their tongues slowly while Jules made sounds of pleasure in his throat. Suddenly Jules broke off the kiss. “I want you to do it tonight,” he said breathlessly. “Take me, please take me before you go.” He hardly knew what he was saying, but it seemed so right.

“Don’t think about that now,” Gant answered, stroking him. “Remember what Vic said? I’m not your customer, Jules. You don’t have to do anything to please me. Let’s just see where it takes us. Besides,” he whispered, running a hand through Jules’s hair, “I don’t want to get beaten up again.”

But Jules persisted. “I want you naked on me, inside me. But why do I feel as if I’ve known you before? I know what it’s like to have you,” he said, roughly jerking Gant’s shirt to pull him closer and ravage his mouth. He broke off their kiss again and looked at Gant with fear in his eyes. “I’ve been with you before, haven’t I?”

“Yes,” said Gant, amazed, and kissed him hard, trying to drive away the fear.

Jules pulled away again. “But where did I know you? Why don’t I remember?”

“You will.” They kissed again, but Jules stopped it once more.

“I remember making love with you,” he said slowly. “But I also remember that something terrible happened to me, and you were there. You weren’t the one who hurt me, Gant, were you? Were you one of the grey men?”

“No, but I was there. The grey men hurt me, too. You and I helped each other escape. We need to talk about this.”

“They had grey faces,” Jules said urgently, trying to remember. “I was a doctor. How could _I_ give Ned a new leg? How can I be a doctor _and_ a gigolo?”

“Only one can be true,” agreed Gant.

“I helped you in the wall.... Wallace was there, wasn’t he? They beat him almost to death. This doesn’t make any sense!” he cried in exasperation.

“It will.”

“Why do you and Edi keep saying that?” Jules was in a panic now, feeling that his world was shattering around him.

Gant held him close and stroked his back. “You have to figure it out for yourself. If I tell you I won’t be helping you. Believe me, I hate to see you in pain.”

“I believe you,” Jules said, surprised. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me. I keep thinking that if I make love with you, I’ll find out the truth.”

“That’s what I keep thinking,” whispered Gant.

***

After a scant five hours of sleep, Edi was back at the observation post. “Dax to Sisko.”

“Sisko here. What’s happening?”

“He’s starting to remember, Benjamin. I think it’s going to work. Garak’s going to make it work.”

***

Jules held Gant’s head in both hands and looked deep into his eyes. “I want you, but _they_ keep coming between us,” he whispered. He was half naked now, lying on top of Gant with his tawny chest pressed against the grey one.

“Why do you let them?” answered Gant. “Aren’t they just in your mind?”

Sliding off to one side, Jules pulled down Gant’s trousers and reached for his shorts, which were bulging out in front. His hand froze in mid air.

“A grey cock,” he murmured. “Just like the others.”

“No, Jules, different. You’ve seen it before, and touched it. Look at it. Just look. You don’t have to touch me.”

Gant pulled down his shorts to expose his large grey erection. Jules looked.

“No,” he said finally. “No, it’s not the same. The others were...”

And suddenly he was back there in the cold, cavernous place, hearing screams at all hours of the day and night, sometimes unsure if they were his own screams. The place where they kept him was smeared with filth. There were no blankets, no beds. He shivered alone in the corner. The food they gave him made him ill, so he stopped eating it altogether. The water was laced with drugs that gave him headaches and confused him. When he saw vermin climbing up the walls, they seemed to transform into weird shapes, and sometimes they spoke to him. He saw them even when he closed his eyes. And the guards! Those bony shields they had instead of faces, those iron arms, the staring, red-rimmed eyes. They were ruthless, merciless...

“They might have asked me something,” he whispered, “but I wasn’t even sure of that because they had all the information they wanted. Back home that Changling was there taking my place. None of my friends even noticed. Even Miles. Even you,” he said accusingly. “How could you not notice?”

“I noticed something,” whispered Gant, “but I didn’t understand. He only let me come to him once, and he wasn’t passionate, didn’t seem to want me. He treated me coldly, but he looked like you, felt like you. I thought you had just gotten tired of me. I thought it was over. There was no one I could tell.”

Jules reached out for Gant’s erection and held it tight in his hands. “I remember this,” he said. “I’ve taken it inside me, and willingly.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve sucked it until you came in my mouth and I’ve wanted to do it again.”

“Yes.”

Jules looked at him wildly. “Who am I? Who are you?”

“Think, Jules,” said Gant. “You have all the answers. I’m just here to help you.”

“Then tell me!” he wailed.

“I can’t. Think!”

Letting go of Gant, Jules turned away from him and rolled into a ball. He started shivering. Gant rose and covered him with a blanket.

“Don’t go!”

“I won’t.” Gant sat next to him on the bed and stroked his back.

Jules reached out again and touched Gant’s cock, which was limp now. It stirred at his touch. “Is this is a weapon?” he asked tonelessly, letting it drop.

“Jules, try to think back. It’s over now, but you have to remember it before you can let it go.”

“I don’t want to remember. Why can’t we just stay here?” Jules begged. “What if you don’t check out tomorrow? By then I’ll be ready for you, I know it. You can take me.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Jules,” Gant said gently. “Try to remember more. You were about to tell me what the others looked like.”

“Bony,” Jules said promptly. “Long and bony. Always hard. They don’t ejaculate, you know, so they can do it as often as they want. They come and a minute later they’re ready to come again. They’re insatiable. They only do it for torture—to humiliate their prisoners, to keep them terrified at all hours. They drugged me and used me, and used me...”

_The oily smell of them alone made him vomit. He couldn’t tell them apart, so the same face with the same cock seemed to approach him again and again, forcing itself between his teeth or up his ass. Sometimes they got down on the floor to take him, but a few made him kneel or bend over, striking him when he didn’t submit._

“I was an empty space,” he said vaguely. “I was a thing. I should have resisted harder.”

“They would have used you anyway. And perhaps they would have killed you.”

“Then I should have died!” Jules said sharply. “I’d be better off dead.”

Leaning over, Gant put his head against Jules’s shoulder. “I want you to live. Don’t you know how I care about you?”

Jules pushed him away and sat up. His face was a mask of fury. “Don’t say that. You don’t know how it feels. How much do you _care_ about me?” he sneered. “Enough to let me fuck you?”

Gant looked at him steadily. “Yes.”

“Then get ready. Lie down on the bed.” Stripping off the rest of his clothing, Gant obeyed. “Spread your legs.”

“You can do whatever you like to me, Jules,” Gant said calmly. “I trust you.”

“Well, don’t trust me!” Jules shouted wildly. “I might force my way in without lubrication. I might decide to tear you apart. Did you know that the Jem’Hadar don’t ejaculate, so it never gets any better? They force their way in over and over until it’s your own blood that makes it slippery for them.” He slid off the bed to the floor and lay there moaning, pulling his own hair with both hands.

Gant came down and sat with him. “You don’t want to do that to me.”

“No.” A muffled sigh.

“Do you want to make love to me?” No answer. “If you do, I’ll get you ready for me. I’ll make you slippery with this.” He held up a small container.

“Why bother? You don’t want it.” Jules looked up into his eyes.

“Why don’t you do it and see if I want it? See if it makes me excited. I can tell you that it will. I’d give almost anything to feel you do that again.”

“I’ve done it...before.” Jules said it as a statement, not a question.

He reached for Gant and kissed him, holding him hard. He felt Gant take hold of his erection and he pushed through the loose grip, leaving wetness behind. Gant rubbed him with something slippery and it excited him to slide so easily through Gant’s hand.

“Are you ready?” Jules asked softly.

Gant answered by lying face down on the bed with his head to one side. “It’s been much too long,” he said simply.

Jules knelt between his legs and touched him gently, moving his hand underneath to find Gant’s scrotum and, further forward, his cock. Gant moved with his touch, arching his back to offer his ass for Jules to take. Jules slid into him, knowing that he didn’t have to be afraid any more. He had left the grey men behind.

It didn’t take long. Just feeling Gant sigh and rock under him made Jules delirious with joy. He had the feeling he was coming back from somewhere, somewhere far away. _But Vic’s Place is in Quark’s holosuite. And Quark’s is right on the Promenade. I haven’t been away at all._ Julian moaned with pleasure and pushed in one last time, spending himself into Garak’s welcoming body. He pulled out, panting, and reached for the container he had seen Garak hold before.

“Now you. Turn over quickly so I can get you ready.” He wanted Garak inside of him again. Of all the grey men, only Garak remained. Only Garak, who had stayed with him all this time.

“No, Jules,” Garak said, turning. “I don’t want to force things again. Let’s wait.”

Julian smiled to see Garak’s hardness and smeared the slick stuff on with both hands. “I’m not Jules. I’m Julian, and I want you.”

Startled, Garak took a few seconds to absorb what had happened. “You’re back,” he said tenderly, taking Julian’s face in one hand and finding his lips.

Without breaking away from their kiss, Julian lay back on the bed with Garak on top of him, pulling back his legs and wrapping them around Garak’s shoulders. Garak found his opening and filled him, filled him over and over while Julian cried out in elation. He was free. He didn’t have to go back to that prison anymore.

***

It was late, but Vic’s closed even later. The senior staff had donned their best evening attire for a party in Julian’s honor. They had danced, they had drunk, and now, after one last toast, they were headed home.

Julian held up his glass. “I’d like to propose a toast. To Jules,” he said.

“But, Julian,” Miles said, “Jules was just a bunch of implanted memories, wasn’t he? He wasn’t really a person.”

“Oh yes he was!” Julian said heatedly. “He was part of me, but he was different, too. He was afraid of things I take for granted, but he dared to do things that frighten me. I repeat, to Jules!”

“To Jules,” everyone echoed.

“He taught me some new dance steps and made Miles an offer he could refuse. He kissed Odo’s wife”—(“He did? When?” Odo asked indignantly, while Kira cupped Odo’s face with her hand and laughed)—“taught Nog to dance, and fell in love with a high roller,” Julian continued, with an affectionate glance at Garak. “And one more thing... He showed me what I might have become if I hadn’t been such a lucky, such a privileged person, surrounded by so many friends. There but for all of you go I.”

Everyone applauded, and the party broke up by mutual consent.

Ezri came up to give him a peck on the cheek. “It sure was good to be sitting at the table for a change instead of serving those drinks. My aching feet!”

Miles shook his hand sheepishly and then gave him a bear hug. “I’m sorry, Julian. I was really awkward. I feel a fool.”

“Don’t, Miles. Jules lashed out at you because he was feeling so bad himself.” Miles nodded and headed for the door.

“Congratulations, doctor,” Sisko said. “I must admit, I didn’t have much faith in this plan, or in Mr. Garak, and for that I apologize.”

Worf shook his hand and merely said, “Welcome back,” and Nog asked hopefully, “Can you still teach me to tango?”

“Of course,” said Julian, smiling. “Keep practicing the foxtrot and you’ll be ready soon.”

Kira and Odo were the last to leave. “You two are really getting to be good dancers,” Julian remarked, smiling.

“Not as good as you, though,” Odo said a bit grudgingly.

“That was Jules. I’m glad I still remember how to do it. Do you remember how awkward I was before?”

“No,” said Nerys. “You never would dance in front of anyone before.”

“True.” Julian laughed.

As the doors slid closed behind her, Garak stood behind Julian and held him around the waist. “Well, that’s everyone except the holopeople,” he said. “Shall we go?”

“Not yet,” said Julian, smiling mysteriously. “I have one more thing in mind.” He signaled to Vic, who walked immediately over to them through the crowd.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, pally?” he asked. When Bashir nodded, he shrugged and mounted the stage.

“I’ve been asked to do a special song tonight,” Vic announced. “It’s dedicated to Jules.”

Vic sang:

_I’m just a gigolo._

_Everywhere I go_

_People know the part I’m playing._

_Paid for every dance_

_Selling each romance._

_Oh, what they’re saying!_

Garak looked at Julian in amazement. “The tune is catchy, but the lyrics are depressing, considering what you’ve been through,” he said.

Julian smiled at him a little sadly. “I don’t want to forget him, Elim,” he said. “He was real, maybe more real than you think.” He held out his hand to Garak, who took it immediately. “Would you like to dance, Mr. Gant?” Julian asked graciously.

“Of course.”

But when Garak reached for Julian’s waist, Julian guided the hand to his shoulder. “I’ll lead this time, if you don’t mind,” he said. Garak smiled and touched his grey face to Julian’s olive cheek.

_There will come a day_

_When youth will pass away._

_What will they say about me?_

_When the end comes, I know,_

_They’ll say ‘just a gigolo’_

_As life goes on without me._


End file.
